


Half Empty

by thanksmeatcat



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, But Only Mild Spoilers, F/M, Gen, M/M, The Nine-Nine Post-Snap, squad family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-11-27 01:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18188153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanksmeatcat/pseuds/thanksmeatcat
Summary: The surviving members of the Nine-Nine try to figure out how to live without half of their loved ones.(Inspired by a couple other fics of this sort.)Now with alternate, Endgame compliant ending.





	1. Chapter 1

When it happened, Amy was in interrogation with a suspect—a suspect who seemed intent on making her day as frustrating as humanly possible. There were about a thousand things going on around the precinct, and around the city in general, since the events of a few days prior; and Amy was trying her best to keep things moving along.

“Look man…” Amy started again. Truth was, he was barely more than a kid. “I have you on security camera tagging that alley around the same time our drug dealer was in the area. I _know_ you saw something. You’re looking at a huge fine that I doubt you can pay—“ At this, the kid finally began squirming under her intense gaze. “If you give us what you know, we’ll cut it down to community service alone.”

The kid swallowed heavily. “Ummm…”

Amy exploded, the stress of the last few days getting the better of her. “Seriously?! ‘ _Um’_?! That’s all you have to say? I do _not_ have time for this. That’s it. Deal’s off the table.”

The kid’s eyes widened.

Something in the atmosphere seemed to shift, almost imperceptibly, certainly ineffably. Amy couldn’t place what it was… was it her outburst? Had she taken her anger too far?

“Ummm…” the kid repeated, staring in horror at his hands where they were chained to the table in front of him. Amy’s eyes followed his, and her stomach did a flip as her brain tried desperately to make sense of what she saw.

 _His hands were disintegrating._ Starting with his fingertips and moving progressively up his hands, he was crumbling to dust. Amy’s mouth dropped open.

“What the hell, what the hell…” the kid repeated, scrambling backwards so hard that his chair scraped against the back wall, his arms no longer bound to the table—because his arms were no longer even there.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Amy breathed heartlessly, reaching toward him but not knowing what she should, or even could do. And then he was gone.

Amy stood in stunned silence—for a minute, five minutes, she wasn’t sure—as the world seemed to collapse in on itself. Slowly she became aware of a commotion coming from the other side of the door. Steeling herself for whatever she was about to find, she opened the door, only to have Jake literally run into her in his attempt to open the door from the other side.

“Ames…”

“What the hell is going on,” she hissed as Jake grabbed her by the shoulders. Shocked cries and loud voices continued to echo around them, but she only had eyes for her husband.

“I don’t know—“ A beat cop nearly knocked them both over as he stumbled through the hallway, before collapsing into a cloud of dust. Amy yelped, but Jake seemed to barely register the interruption. “I was at Gina’s desk and… and…” Jake’s eyes were brimming with tears. “I don’t know what happened. She just told me to get Iggy and then…” Jake trailed off, unable to finish. Amy reached up and brushed a tear from his cheek.

“Charles!”

Amy and Jake whipped around to see Rosa storming out of the evidence locker, eyes wilder than normal and filed with a fiery desperation.

“Boyle just disappeared right in front of me. What is _happening_?” Rosa’s tone was characteristically rough and clipped, but it was painfully clear that panic was bubbling right below the surface.

Jake took off into the evidence locker, muttering “No, no, no,” Amy and Rosa close on his heels.

“Charles! Charles!” Jake yelled, running among the shelves, jumping up and down as if Charles were simply hidden somewhere just out of sight. Amy caught his hand.

“Babe, stop. Whatever happened…”

Rosa cut in, “It’s gotta be something with that spaceship, right? There’s no way this isn’t related to that.”

Jake’s grip tightened, as if maybe, if he held on tight enough, he could hold her in place, and protect her against whatever was literally tearing the precinct apart.

 

* * *

 

The chaos continued unabated for less than ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. There was nothing to do but wait and see who would be the next to succumb. It was tense and horrible and like nothing anyone ever could have imagined. Finally, it seemed to stop, plunging what was left of the precinct into an unnatural silence.

Jake had lost track of who all had vanished; but he knew the important ones. 

Gina. Charles. Hitchcock and Scully (as far as anyone knew—they had been napping in the break room when it happened, and they were nowhere to be found). No one had yet been able to get in touch with Captain Holt—after working 36 hours straight in the immediate aftermath of the spaceship, he had taken the morning off to rest and to spend time with Kevin. 

“Dammit,” Jake muttered when he got Holt’s voicemail yet again. He slouched even deeper in his chair and rubbed his temples. Amy sniffled softly from where she sat in the chair by his desk. Her own desk chair felt too far away. Rosa had settled herself nearby, glowering silently as she leaned against the window with her arms crossed.

In Holt’s absence, Terry was the acting C.O. of the precinct. He was clearly trying desperately hard to do his job, to keep it together. But no more than five minutes had passed when his desk phone was sent rocketing across the bullpen, crashing loudly into the refrigerator.

Jake leapt up from his chair. “Sarge…”

“Sharon’s not picking up,” Terry growled, gathering his coat and keys, muscles bulging. 

Jake glanced at Amy, who had appeared next to his side. “We can handle things here.” Amy nodded in agreement, “Go.” 

Terry stormed out. 

Rosa jerked suddenly where she stood, eyes widening.

“I have to go too.”

Amy opened her mouth to respond, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Iggy and Nikolaj were with Genevieve. Someone needs to go check on them.” And with that, Rosa too left.

 

* * *

  

The next few hours were a blur of crisis control and grief. Jake felt like he was moving through a thick fog—the sort of fog one dreams about, that somehow makes the whole world languid and sluggish. Amy’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

They had both managed to get in touch with their families, or what was left of them. Three of Amy’s brothers were gone, as were both of her parents. Jake’s mother as well. (Jake felt guilty that he wished it had been his dad instead.) 

Nothing felt real. 

Rosa was the first to return, lugging two overstuffed duffle bags, holding Iggy on one hip and pulling Nikolaj along with her other hand. Iggy looked a little dazed; Nikolaj, on the other hand, looked terrified.

Jake and Amy met her at the entrance to the bullpen, Amy grabbing Iggy so that Rosa could put down her baggage. Rosa looked at them both, and shook her head minutely.

“Hey buddy,” Jake breathed out, dropping to his knees in order to wrap Nikolaj in a tight hug. 

“I wasn’t sure what our next steps were, so I grabbed a bunch of their stuff,” Rosa said, nodding towards the duffles. 

“Smort.” 

Amy shot Jake a look. _Really?_  

Jake grimaced. “Sorry. Reflex.” 

“So what do we know?” Rosa asked, desperate to keep moving, to go on to the next thing so that she wouldn’t have to stop and think about what was happening. “What’s the latest?” 

Jake glanced at Nikolaj and then back at Rosa. Amy picked up on the cue and reached for the 6-year-old’s hand. “Why don’t we go find some toys for Iggy to play with?” she said, all false cheer as she led him away, Iggy in tow. 

Jake sighed, and began updating Rosa about his and Amy’s families. 

“I’m sorry.” Rosa said, adding with slight embarrassment, “Both of my parents made it.” 

“I’m really glad to hear that.” He meant it. “No one’s heard from Holt yet. Amy and I have tried his house and his cell about ten times each, but no one’s picking up. I would try Kevin, but none of us has his number.” Jake knew that he _should_ have Kevin’s number, especially after all that time at the safe house; but phones had been off-limits, and Jake had never thought to ask for it after the whole situation blew over. “I think Gina has… had it, but we can’t find her phone. It’s like it disappeared with her…” 

Rosa actually chuckled. “It’s always been a part of her.” 

“Anyway, there aren’t many people left around here at the moment. A couple beat cops went out to help with things, but I think most went to check on family and friends. Hard to blame them. How are things looking out there?”

“Weird,” Rosa replied. “People running all over the place, but it’s also—quiet. And empty, almost. Roads are pretty congested though. Lots of cars just sitting in the road, no driver, but I was able to get around okay on my bike.”

Jake held up his hand. “Wait. You rode here with Nikolaj and Iggy and all that crap on your _bike_?”

Rosa just shrugged. Jake had never been so grateful for Rosa’s badassery. If anyone had the skills necessary for… whatever _this_ was, it was her. 

“Any word on what happened though?” Rosa was looking at the TV, which was playing a pared-down version of the news. Only one anchor sat at the news desk, reading off of bulletins as an assistant—always the same one—brought them to her on camera. Production value was far from a priority.

“Seems to be everywhere. And nothing’s official yet but—they’re saying it’s half.”

Her eyes widened. “Half of what?!” 

“Of everyone. People… animals, too, and…” Jake trailed off at the sound of the elevator dinging. “Oh no…” 

It was Terry stepping out. Terry, with Ava clutched in his arms, and no one else. (Like Rosa, he had clearly packed a bag. You couldn’t beat the good sense and forethought of the Nine-Nine.) He strode swiftly across the bullpen, straight to Captain Holt’s office, and slammed the door behind him.

Rosa and Jake looked at each other, momentarily frozen in place. Rosa was the first to rouse from the shock, muttering, “Come on,” as she took off toward Holt’s office. Jake followed.

 

* * *

 

Late afternoon bled into evening. A small handful of the night crew actually showed up, which took most of the pressure off of Rosa, Jake, and Amy. (No one expected Terry to do much of anything, and he hadn’t emerged from Holt’s office.) There was surprisingly little to do anyway. There was still a massive dearth of information, and no one had a good read on what even needed to get done.

Eventually Amy brought Nikolaj and Iggy into Holt’s office and got them settled on the couch for the night. Around 2 am, Jake dragged in all the cushions from the other couches in the precinct, before curling up next to where Amy had dozed off against the couch. Terry relocated from the desk chair to one of the piles of cushions. He hadn’t put Ava down since returning from his home, and he continued to hold her tightly as he managed to somehow fit his large frame into the small space between the desk and the bookshelf. 

A few minutes later, Rosa slinked in, softly shutting the door behind her.

Perhaps it was the sheer weight of grief, or a desire to escape the all-encompassing confusion of the previous 17 hours. Whatever the reason, everyone quickly sank into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

Still, everyone was bleary-eyed and sluggish in the morning, both from the short period of sleep and from the sort of dehydration that follows a day full of crying. Amy had a full-on meltdown around 10 am. Nothing in particular seemed to precipitate it; it was as if suddenly the well of sadness that had been building since yesterday spilled over. Jake sat in the briefing room with her and held her as she sobbed, shedding his own tears for what they had lost.

Noontime came around and the whole team was gather in Holt’s office once more. Terry was filling them in on the latest news: the military was sending people, and needed a base in the neighborhood, so they’d be taking over the Nine-Nine. If the remaining members of the squad wanted to keep helping out, they would have to do so from another precinct.

Jake wouldn’t have it. “No.” 

Terry rubbed his hand tiredly over his face. “Look, Peralta, I’m just telling you—“

“We’re not separating.” 

“But we can’t all stay here. That’s all I’m saying.” 

“I know that.” Jake looked around at what was left of the squad—of their family. “I think we should go to Captain Holt’s place.”

Terry and Rosa immediately began talking over one another. Amy just sighed sadly and said, “He’s gone, Jake.” Jake held up his hands to silence the room. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hear me out guys.” Jake swallowed heavily. “Look. I’m not naive. I know what we’re likely to find. I know that Kevin or Holt should have called us by now. But we owe it to the Captain to check. What if Cheddar’s all alone? Plus—“ He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. “I’m really worried about the Captain.” 

Rosa squinted at him. She wasn’t following his logic. “We all are, but he’s either there or he’s not.” 

Jake shook his head. “No… I just can’t shake this feeling. You guys weren’t there when he was getting me and Kevin set up at the safe house. You didn’t hear him talk about what he might do if something happened to Kevin. I—what if…what if Kevin disappeared and Holt got left behind? And then he’s been alone this whole time? What if he does something…” 

Terry cut in before Jake could finish the thought. They were all painfully aware of where it was headed. “Ok, ok, fair point. But why can’t you and”—gesturing to where Rosa was pacing the room—“Diaz just go and then report back?”

“Because we need to stay together, and we need to find somewhere more stable to set up a base. We have three kids to take care of.” _Five,_ Jake couldn’t help but think. _There should be five kids._  

Terry remained skeptical. “So we _all_ go there? Why not go to one of our places instead?” 

Jake shifted to the edge of his seat, legs bobbling with nervous energy. “Look, here’s the deal.” He began counting his points on his fingers. “We need to check on Holt. We can’t stay here, the military is coming. We can’t necessarily rely on being able to make multiple trips to separate locations right now—it risks us getting separated. I’m not leaving Amy, I’m not leaving Rosa, and I’m sure as hell not leaving you right now. And there’s not a single one of these kids I don’t feel personally responsible for. Ava’s my goddaughter, Nikolaj is basically my nephew, and I _promised_ Gina I’d watch Iggy when…” His voice began to crack. 

Silence fell over the room. 

Rosa stopped pacing. “Jake’s right.”

Terry opened his mouth in protest, but Rosa continued before he could speak. “The roads out there are bad. You saw them yourself, Sarge. We don’t want to do anything that would mean we’d have to rely on traveling too much to stick together.” 

Amy perked up and piped in. “I’ve heard chatter about roadblocks and curfews. We don’t want to end up on opposite sides of those.”

Terry sighed and leaned back in his chair. He glanced at where Ava was playing on the carpet, and slowly started to nod. “Ok.” 

Jake saw his chance to really drive home his argument. “We don’t have to totally abandon our posts. We take the time we need to do right by Holt and get these kids sorted out. And then we figure out a way to send people to help out. Plus, Holt’s place is a perfect base for us. It’s got space and it’s in a safe neighborhood. He will… he would want us to be together. I’m sure of it.” 

“Alright.” Terry slapped his hands on the desk. “Let’s get our things together.”


	2. Chapter 2

It took about an hour before they were out the door. Everyone emptied the contents of their lockers—extra clothes, deodorant, and so on—into duffle bags embroidered with the NYPD logo. Terry scooped his stockpile of yogurt into a grocery bag. They piled their bags next to the elevator as they filled them. (At one point, Rosa dropped a bag on the ground that sounded suspiciously like it was entirely full of knives and other weapons.)

After loading up Terry’s van, Jake took the passenger’s seat while Amy sat in the back to help wrangle the kids. Rosa would follow them on her bike.

She hadn’t been exaggerating about the roads. What would have normally been a 35 minute trip ballooned into an almost 4 hour long drive. Rosa took advantage of the mobility offered by her bike throughout—she would zip ahead, scout out best paths around potential obstacles. She also made several pitstops at whatever still-functioning bodegas they passed to grab food, toiletries, and other supplies, passing them through the open window to Jake whenever traffic ground to a stop.

The shadows were starting to lengthen when they finally pulled up to Holt’s house. After conferring for a moment, the decision was made that Jake and Rosa would be the ones to scope things out. Terry didn’t want to leave Ava in the car, and Nikolaj had fallen asleep up against Amy during the last leg of their journey.

(Jake felt for the kid. He was the only one old enough to _really_ grasp that there was something wrong, but he still wasn’t old enough to really understand what exactly _was_ wrong—though to be fair, no one understood it anyway. He had held on admirably at the precinct but had begun to repeatedly and, after a while, tearfully ask where his Mama and Papa were as they gradually left territory with which he was familiar. Amy had tried her best to comfort him, but eventually he just wore himself out.)

Jake and Rosa stood in front of the Holt-Cozner residence for a few moments, steeling themselves for what they were going to find. Rosa set her jaw forward, lips forming her characteristic scowl, as she tried her best to ignore the feeling of terror gnawing at her core. Jake gave the van once last glance, noting how Terry sat in the front seat, his lips resting atop Ava’s head as he stared at nothing in particular. He felt a surge of loyalty towards the leaders of the squad.

“Ok.” He said. “Ok.”

They walked up the porch steps, and Rosa peered through the window. “I don’t see anything.”

Jake knocked. And waited. 

No response. He knocked again, louder. Nothing: no voices, no footsteps, no dog yapping. 

Jake switched tactics. “Captain Holt! Kevin! Hello?!”

Another moment. Jake turned back toward the van and gave an exaggerated shrug in Terry’s and Amy’s direction. _No luck._ Rosa began to dig through her bag, producing a set of lock picks. She had just bent over and inserted the first pick when—

Suddenly there was the scraping sound of the lock being turned. Rosa jumped back, tools clattering on the stone porch. Jake’s eyes widened, “What the—?

The door opened just a crack, so little that Jake and Rosa were forced to squint into the dark interior. A voice carried out from inside.

“Peralta? Diaz?”

It was Kevin. And he looked—awful. His normally impeccable hair, though still parted sharply on the left, was all out of place, some pieces falling limply over his forehead. His face appeared haggard—and the colorlessness of his cheeks and lips only made more obvious the deep purple bags under his red-rimmed eyes. Eyes which, normally so sharp, were dull and not entirely focused. He clearly hadn’t shaven in a day or so, leaving him… scruffy, a word which Jake had never once imagined using to describe someone usually as well put together as Kevin. His sweater vest was deeply creased and his collar was sticking up oddly on one side, the knot of his tie a veritable disaster by his and Holt’s normal standards. His posture was hunched, giving off an air of defensiveness, of wariness, even as he appeared to struggle to hold himself upright. Even his voice was wrong: normally so polite and soft, if not somewhat terse, in speaking, their names had come out as rough, hoarse whispers.

Any lingering hope Jake held of Holt surviving fled immediately.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake noticed Rosa suddenly reach toward her holster. He followed her eyeliner to where she was looking—Kevin was holding a gun. It wasn’t quite pointed at them; but it was there, hanging loosely in his clearly shaking right hand. 

Jake shoved down his instinct to reach for his own weapon, and instead held his hands up in what he hoped was a reassuring and non-threatening gesture. “Kev… can you hand us the gun please? No one is going to hurt you. We’re here to check on you.”

Kevin’s eyes narrowed minutely, before he glanced down at the gun. He seemed… almost shocked to find it in his hand. “Right,” he muttered. Slowly, robotically, he reached the gun out, holding the handle by two fingers as if it burned him. Jake promptly grabbed it. In doing so he caught a close look at Kevin’s hand and lower arm. Dried blood was streaked across his palm and disappeared into his shirt cuff. 

Rosa noticed as well. “What happened to your hand?”

Again, Kevin seemed to be taking in this detail for the first time, eyes a little glazed even as he turned his injured hand over in front of his face. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally croaking out. “I… I don’t know.” 

Kevin was still mostly blocking the entrance, door only half open. _Something is wrong,_ Jake thought. _Something is very, very wrong._ Jake couldn’t claim to know Kevin particularly well, even after their time together in the safe house. But the way Kevin was acting—his delayed responses, his jilted speaking pattern, the very fact that he had been holding a _gun_ —none of it was anything close to resembling what he understood of the Captain’s husband. 

Still, Rosa pushed on. In a surprisingly gentle voice, she asked, “Can we come in? We want to talk to you about what’s going on. Terry and Amy are in the van with the kids,” Rosa tilted her head toward the street, “but they’re going to need to eat soon…” 

Jake suddenly felt extremely self-conscious about having arrived unannounced. _Although_ , he thought, _it wasn’t really unannounced, was it?_ They had called dozens of times. But Kevin didn’t offer any protest. Instead, his gaze slid aimlessly past the two detectives standing in front of him, and he blinked slowly for a moment before—“Kids?”

Jake rubbed his hand against the back of his head before explaining, “Yeah, Terry has Ava and we also have Nikolaj and Iggy.” 

For a fleeting moment, Kevin seemed to resurface out of whatever stupor he was in, as he responded, “Oh my, of course.” He stepped back, letting the door swing open all the way. “Please.” He gestured vaguely inside.

Jake shrugged toward Rosa and stepped over the threshold. Rosa waved towards the van— _All good, come on in—_ before following. 

It took a moment for Jake’s eyes to adjust to the indoor light—and there weren’t really many lights on anyway. Kevin had paused at the foot of the staircase, hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides. After a moment’s pause, and without looking up from his feet, he broke the silence. “How did you get here so quickly?”

_Wait… what?_ Jake’s brain scrambled to make sense of Kevin’s question. Rosa raised an eyebrow, equally confused. Trying desperately to figure out how to respond—was this Kevin passive aggressively telling them off for barging in? Was he annoyed at the intrusion?—Jake took a shot in the dark.

“Look man, we’re sorry to drop in on you so suddenly—we tried to call.” _Wait._ “Why didn’t you answer the phone? We must’ve called the house at least 20 times.”

Kevin shook his head. “No, no, no… that’s not right. The phone didn’t… there weren’t any…”

For a moment, Jake thought that maybe the phone lines were down. But then everything clicked into place in his head, and his heart dropped. _Oh, Kevin…_

Rosa seemed to figure it out exactly the same time Jake did. She stepped toward Kevin and leaned down to catch his eye and, very gently, “Kevin. It’s been over 30 hours since… it… happened.”

What little color had remained in Kevin’s face drained as he took in Rosa’s words. His eyes darted back and forth between their faces. “That’s not possible,” he barely whispered, then, “I was just.. and then Raymond was,” his voice was getting progressively shakier, “and then you knocked—there wasn’t… the phone didn’t…”

Kevin reached blindly out for something to grab onto, to ground himself, and Jake leapt forward to grab him as his knees began to buckle. Jake tried his best not to panic as he held Kevin up; he was clearly on the verge of passing out.

Just then, he heard sound of Terry, Amy, and the kids approaching the doorway. Rosa tilted her head toward the door to the living room. _Let’s go._

“Ok, ok, steady,” Jake tried his best to sound reassuring as he held Kevin up with an arm under his shoulders and steered him toward the interior of the house. They needed to get him somewhere more private, both so that Kevin would be spared the audience and so that the kids wouldn’t be freaked out. Together they stumbled through the living room and into the study, where Jake gently deposited Kevin in one of the plush armchairs. 

Jake crouched in front of him, sitting lightly on the edge of the coffee table. Rosa leaned back far enough to check that the others had headed toward the kitchen. Satisfied that they wouldn’t be disturbed, Rosa took a knee next to Kevin’s chair. Kevin was somehow both slouched and stiff in the chair, his hands gripping his knees so tightly that his knuckles grew white. The blood on his right hand stood out even more in contrast.

Rosa was the first to speak, probing softly, “What were you doing before we arrived, Kevin?” Kevin simply grimaced and shook his head. “You don’t remember?”

Jake jumped in. “Have you eaten anything? Had anything to drink?” Kevin looked at a total loss. _Figures,_ Jake thought. Dehydration would explain a good deal of Kevin’s odd behavior and the physical symptoms of…whatever he was going through. “Did you sleep?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.” Kevin’s voice quavered. 

Jake stood up and tapped Rosa on the shoulder, beckoning her to follow him. “Ok, Kev, it’s gonna be fine. Give us one moment.” Kevin barely seemed to register his words. They retreated to the doorway—just far enough to have a hushed conversation out of earshot. 

Jake dropped his voice as low as possible. “Ok, I don’t know what is really going on here but at the very least we need to get some food and water into him. He could possibly be severely dehydrated.”

Rosa nodded, “Yeah, he’s all out of sorts. We gotta deal with that hand too.”

“Do you think that it’s…” Jake searched carefully for his next words, “self-inflicted?” Rosa only shrugged, her face unreadable. They stood silently for a beat, both taking in the aura of listlessness that surrounded Kevin. He looked perpetually a moment away from completely crumbling.

Rosa broke the silence. “I’ll go get some stuff. You should stay back here with him.”

Jake groaned internally. He knew Rosa’s offer was completely sincere—but he also knew that she felt just as uncomfortable and out of her depth dealing with emotional situations as he did. She undoubtedly wanted a chance to step away for a moment. But Kevin could not be left alone, and regardless, Jake knew that he owed it to Kevin—and to Holt—to ignore his emotional hangups and to do whatever he could to help.

“Ok, yeah. Cool, cool, cool, that’s fine. We’ll be fine. Hurry back though.” And with that, Rosa exited and Jake found himself alone with his boss’s distressed husband.

 

* * *

 

Amy had just begun feeding Iggy some applesauce when Rosa appeared in the kitchen. It had taken them a while to get their bearings and to get the kids comfortable in the breakfast nook off the kitchen. Terry had had to clean up a broken glass that they found at one end of the table, sweeping what remained of the glass into a trashcan and carefully scouring the floor until he felt confident all the pieces were found. There was blood too—not an overly-concerning amount, but enough for Terry to raise an eyebrow toward Amy, who quickly threw a hand towel over it and cheerily planted the kids at the other end of the table.

Rosa made straight for the fridge and started rifling around loudly. Amy set down the small spoon she was holding and pushed it and the applesauce toward where Terry sat on the other side of the chair they’d planted Iggy’s carseat in. 

“I’m gonna go check in with Rosa.”

Terry nodded, and scooted his chair closer to Iggy’s. He picked up where Amy left off, all the while holding Ava with his other hand.

Amy approached Rosa and tried her best to control her emotions as she asked, “Hey… what’s the deal? What do we know?”

Rosa ceased her rummaging and looked sadly at Amy. She sighed. “It’s not great. Kevin is the only one left.” 

_No._ Amy had known in her heart that the Captain was gone. So why was the confirmation still so much worse? She shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind and, blinking back tears, asked, “Is there anything I can do to help you with…” It occurred to Amy that Rosa probably wasn’t _just_ searching for a snack. “What exactly are you looking for?”

Rosa explained the situation—how Kevin seemed completely out of it; how he seemed weak and disoriented; how he had somehow misplaced almost a day and a half of time after experiencing his own version of the horror they had all gone through the previous morning—but how he had gone through it alone.

“It’s horrible, Amy. It’s like he completely dissociated or something. And one of his hands—“ Rosa paused, not wanting to put in words her and Jake’s fear—“One of his hands is all cut up and bloody and we don’t know if he—“

Amy saw where Rosa was going. “No, no, no… I think maybe there was an accident of some sort?” She explained the glass they had found around the table. Nothing about it had appeared particularly intentional. Rosa looked relieved. 

Amy began searching through the duffel bags she and Terry had brought in. “We didn’t grab everything yet but…” She moved on to another bag, and then, “Ah-ha! My first aid kit.” She held it proudly in front of herself. “State of the art, everything you could ever possibly need, certainly more than enough for some cuts.” 

Rosa smirked at Amy’s pride in her own organizational abilities. Her face fell a little when Amy made to hand her the kit. Amy’s mouth made an “o” and before Rosa could speak, she offered, “You know what, I can do this. I’m happy to—I’m sure Jake will feel better with me in eyesight and I sure know I would anyway—“

The excuses she babbled were lame, but Rosa’s expression bespoke her clear appreciation for the offer. “Okay, let’s see if we can find a tray or something for you to bring everything in there.”

 

* * *

 

Jake returned to his seat on the table in front of Kevin. _Okay, you can do this, it’s just for a few minutes…_ He pushed down every instinct in him to deflect the emotions of the situation by making a joke or a fart noise.

Kevin glanced up at Jake’s renewed presence, and croaked out, “I’m sorry.”

Jake cocked his head to the side a little. “We’re gonna get you feeling better, Kev.”

“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” Kevin moaned. He tilted his head back so that he was staring at the ceiling, before grimacing and rolling his neck back and forth. Then, almost inaudibly, he added, “I remember what happened though…or, I think I do…”

“Oh…” Jake’s stomach dropped. “You don’t have to if you don’t want—“

Kevin continued, a note of his usual clipped formality sneaking in, despite his distraught state. “We had taken Cheddar for a walk, and were sitting in the breakfast nook. Apropos of nothing, Cheddar went running toward the front of the house, and then suddenly his barking just cut off. The whole thing was very… unusual so I got up to check on him… but he wasn’t there and he wasn’t in the sitting room or the study and I was about to check upstairs when…”

He faltered momentarily, and his breathing began to stutter. “I heard a glass shatter and I returned to our nook to check on Raymond and he”—Tears started to leak out of Kevin’s eyes now. (Jake wasn’t sure how his body could spare the water.)—“he tried to say something to me and I tried to hold on to him but he just… disintegrated.”

Kevin’s composure had completely slipped by the time he finished. Breath gasping and wheezing, he began to tug aimlessly at his tie with shaking hands. Panic flashed across his face. “Oh god… I can’t do this. I can’t…I can’t breathe.”

Jake’s heart broke for Kevin. Obviously he too had experienced the horror, disbelief, and grief of the previous morning. But he hadn’t had to go it alone, and hadn’t had to feel the love of his life crumble in his grasp. And then to be alone for so long in the state Kevin was in… no wonder some part of him had checked out from reality. Jake was overwhelmed by guilt over not coming sooner, and his own eyes began to mist over.

He leaned forward and gently pulled Kevin’s hands away from his collar. “I got you, Kevin. Hold on.” He quickly untied the tie, popping the button at his shirt collar and the one below open afterwards to give Kevin more space to breathe. Then, breaching any remaining vestige of the personal/professional barrier, he grabbed Kevin’s uninjured hand with one of his own (his skin felt strangely cold and clammy) and placed the other on his shoulder.

Kevin looked up at him, eyes pleading, and sobbed, “Do you know what this is? Is he d—gone?”

Jake hesitated, but then decided Kevin deserved the truth. “Yes, I think so.” A sudden thought occurred to Jake, and he added, “It’s not just here though, it happened everywhere.”

Kevin nodded, even though in truth it made no sense, and clung tightly to Jake’s hand. He was clearly trying to reign himself back in—but he was just as clearly beginning to lose ground once more. Jake could see how he was withdrawing into himself, even as tears continued to leak out of his unfocused eyes, his breath coming in pained and rapid gasps.

This was getting out of hand quickly. _I made it worse,_ Jake thought. _Where the hell is Rosa?_ He shifted his grip on Kevin’s hand a little, so that he could feel his pulse—it was rapid and thready. He removed his hand from Kevin’s shoulder and patted him gently, but firmly, on the cheek in an attempt to rouse him from the cycle of—whatever this was, which seemed deeply unaided by Kevin’s lack of sleep or sustenance. He was well on his way to hyperventilating.

“Focus on me, Kevin. We need to slow down your breathing. Like this.” Jake took several slow, deliberate breaths. For a terrifying moment it appeared that it was a lost cause, but then slowly awareness crept back onto Kevin’s face and he began to breath in time with Jake.

He groaned, rasping out, “I do not know what is wrong with me.”

Jake started to reassure him, but before he could figure out a good way to essentially say, _Your body is all out of wack from doing nothing whatsoever to sustain it in the last day and a half because you had a grief-induced blackout,_ he heard footsteps approaching. He felt his whole body relax when he saw it was Amy who was bearing a tray of assorted supplies. She smiled softly at him, but her smile fell when she got a good look at Kevin. She set the tray down behind Jake with a small _clank,_ before crooning, “Oh Kevin,” and inserting herself in front of Jake so as to gather Kevin in a warm (albeit, somewhat awkwardly positioned) embrace. Without hesitation, Kevin leaned in and began to cry in earnest once more. He still held on to Jake's hand, and Jake, resigning himself to the impending group hug, rested his other arm around Amy’s shoulders, reveling in her realness, her solidity, her presence, which could no longer be taken for granted.

After a few minutes, and when Kevin’s cries reduced mostly to sniffles, Amy sat back and, after wiping her own eyes, gently grabbed Kevin’s injured hand, turning it over, surveying the damage. She rolled up his sleeve to reveal that, not only had the blood from the (several, smallish) cuts on his hand run up his arm, but he had one rather long, deep cut running from the outside of his wrist down toward his elbow. She sucked in a breath. “This is going to take a bit of work to patch up.”

Jake tried not to gag and redirected his attention to the contents of Amy’s tray: a glass of water, a glass of orange juice, some plain looking crackers, and a first aid kid he _knew_ was stocked to the gills with anything Amy could possible need.

Amy noticed him evaluating the tray, and, trying her best to make it seem like she was explaining her choices not just to Jake, but to Kevin as well, stated, “So, I think top priority is some water because hydration is our main goal here.” She indicated to the OJ, “but your blood sugar is also probably very low, so something sugary—and liquidly—is good for getting on top of that and then,” pointing now at the crackers, “these are a good first solid food step. I know it’s not _all_ that nutritious, but,” directly addressing Kevin now, “I doubt you’ll even feel hungry for more until we get this much in you.”

Jake couldn’t help but smile fondly at his wife’s intelligence and thoughtfulness.

She continued, “I can work on this hand,”— _Oh thank god,_ Jake thought, still feeling squeamish—“if you, babe, help Kevin here start getting through this water and food.” She turned back to Kevin, offering him a kind smile, “Sound like a plan?”


	3. Chapter 3

Getting Kevin back in working order proved to be a tedious affair. On Amy’s side, she discovered that there was quite a bit of glass embedded in Kevin’s already partially healed cuts. Even as she was forced to dig around for the pieces with tweezers, Kevin hardly flinched or even acknowledged the intrusion—perhaps the only positive side effect of the state of shock he still seemed to be in.

Jake’s job proved to be the more difficult of the two. Kevin needed to be rehydrated slowly, so it was a laborious process of sipping on water and then waiting, sipping on juice and then waiting, nibbling on the edges of crackers and then waiting. Kevin at first mounted an almost childlike resistance to the juice and crackers; it took a while before they stopped making him feel _more_ sick and actually were felt as a source of improvement. Gradually, his resistance flagged, while at the same time some color began to return to his complexion.

After about an hour and a half, and once Kevin had moved on to his second glass of water and some grapes Jake found in the fridge, Kevin grew thoughtful and, mindlessly flexing his now thoroughly bandaged hand, asked, “Remind me who exactly is here?”

Jake and Amy hesitated for a moment. On the one hand, Kevin was by far the most lucid he had been since their arrival. On the other hand, they feared this lucidity would prove unstable, and that further bad news could reverse their progress in pulling him out of the wretched state in which they found him.

It was Amy who finally answered. “It’s us, Rosa, Terry, and then Ava, Nikolaj, and Iggy.”

Kevin took a beat to process this information, before cautiously asking, “So if someone is not here, then they are… gone?

Jake nodded remorsefully, and sighed. “Charles. Gina.” (Here Kevin winced noticeably—he’d always had a soft spot for her.) “Scully. Hitchcock. And then Sharon and the twins, and also Genevieve.” Jake paused before adding, “Amy’s parents and some of her brothers. My m—mom.” He stared resolutely at his feet for a minute, willing himself not to cry again.

Kevin hummed sympathetically. “If it is not isolated… what is it? What happened?” If Kevin was agitated now, it was anger, rather than panic, that drove him.

Amy responded, “No one’s completely sure, but they’re confident it had something to do with those alien attacks. It’s half though… half of all life.”

Kevin was understandably incredulous. “How is that even possible?”

Jake shrugged lamely. “Don’t know. They’re calling it the Decimation.”

To his and Amy’s absolute horror, Kevin barked out a harsh laugh. Amy’s face fell. _What the hell? Has he completely lost it?_

Chuckling hysterically, Kevin rolled his eyes and explained, “Raymond would _despise_ that name.”

Confused, Jake began to ask, “Because…”

Amy’s eyes lit up as she caught on to Kevin’s train of thought. “Ah, I see.” Sensing Jake’s persisting confusion, she added, “The word ‘decimation’ originally referred to a practice used by the Roman’s to punish insubordinate soldiers by executing one out of every ten men who committed the offense. So it’s ten percent. Using it as a name for a… an event in which _fifty_ percent are claimed is imprecise and…”

“Etymologically sloppy.” Kevin offered. “It’s a completely erroneous deployment of the term.”

“Noice,” Jake responded.

“ _Erroneous,_ not _erogenous,_ babe,” Amy said, correctly guessing the inspiration for Jake’s utterance.

Jake smiled. “Got it. I can never keep up with you wordsy types.”

Even Kevin was smiling slightly, though it still appeared strained and didn’t quite reach his eyes.

There was a beat of silence, and then, slowly, he asked, “What is your plan then? I gather you are all hoping to stick together but… are you going somewhere or…?”

Jake scratched his forehead and answered candidly. “Well… yes to the staying together part, but we can’t stay at the precinct, but of course we want to still be somewhere in the area—“

“You can stay here. You _should_ stay here. Raymond would… he would be glad for our home to facilitate the squad,” Kevin corrected himself, “the remaining squad staying together.” His invitation had a desperate forcefulness underlying it—the offer of hospitality was perfectly earnest, but behind it lay an abiding fear of being left alone again. 

Amy smiled and placed her hand over Kevin’s. “That’s very generous. Thank you. And I hope you know that you are one of the squad family.”

Kevin simply nodded, his face a mystery of emotions.

 

* * *

 

By the time Amy and Jake felt fully confident with Kevin’s progress—at which point they shooed him off to shower and change clothes—and by the time the van was fully unloaded, it was well into the evening, bedtime fast approaching. It was decided that Terry would take the master bedroom and keep the kids with him—he could stay near Ava, and all of them would fit comfortably on the large bed. Initially, everyone protested at Kevin’s suggestion that he do so—it was still his home after all—but Kevin clearly had no interest in sleeping in his own bed absent Raymond and declared he would be fine on the couch in the study. Jake and Amy were given the guest bedroom; and Rosa claimed the air mattress which, at least for the first few nights, would allow her to stay in the master in case Terry needed help with the kids.

After room decisions were made, everyone slowly trickled to bed. First, Kevin fetched a book of Greek poetry and a copy of _The New Yorker_ from his bedside table and excused himself to the study. Next, Terry withdrew with the kids. Jake went with him to help—Nikolaj had grown weepy again, so Jake rubbed his head and told him stories of his police hijinks with Charles until the 6-year-old fell asleep. He and Amy soon retired to the guest room.

Rosa made a quick circuit around the house, a perimeter check of sorts. She stealthily peered around the corner into the study to check in on Kevin. He sat with the light on, perusing his book, and while Rosa would have preferred to find him sleeping, he at least seemed in a much better state than when they found him. Taking this as a small victory, she too took her leave into the master bedroom.

But a peaceful night’s sleep proved more elusive than hoped for as Iggy would not go to sleep. Something in her baby brain recognized the unfamiliarity of her situation—this wasn’t her room, none of these people was her mom, her bedtime routine had been completely upended—and she fussed and moved about until, fearing she would wake Nikolaj or Ava, Rosa took her out into the hallway. She paced back and forth, bouncing Iggy, willing her to sleep, for about fifteen minutes before Amy emerged from the guest room.

Rosa stopped pacing but continued bobbing up and down in the hopes it would silence the child’s whimpers. “Sorry, did I wake you?” 

Amy held her sweater tight against her chest and shook her head. “No, I’m a little amped up from the day anyway. I was thinking of going downstairs and making some tea.” 

Iggy’s protests increased in volume, and Amy added, “You know what, I’ll take her with me. Maybe she’ll calm down if she gets a change of scenery.” 

Rosa raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Oh, of course.”

“Alright, well, if you get tired and she’s still like this, bring her back to me.” Rosa handed Iggy off and returned to her room.

  

* * *

 

Amy quickly discovered that Iggy was fine if she didn’t sense that bedtime was being imposed on her by relative strangers in a relatively strange place. She was proving to be as strong willed as her mother. Any time Amy tried to hold her or get her to wind down, she would put up a fight; but she was more than content to sit on the floor and play with her toys. So Amy made her tea and found an old paper laying around with an unsolved crossword puzzle. Surely Iggy would have to give up the game some time…

Amy started when she heard footsteps behind her and whipped around to find Kevin standing there sheepishly.

“My apologies, Detective Santiago. I did not mean to startle you.”

Amy glanced between Kevin’s face—eyes still incredibly bleary—and the clock. 1:37 am. “Don’t worry about it,” she said cautiously. “But… why are you awake? Have you slept yet?”

Kevin deflected. “It’s rather late for crossword puzzles, don’t you think?”

Amy nodded toward where Iggy was quietly playing on the floor. “Someone’s not keen on sleep, or even _trying_ to sleep so,” she pointed at the paper with a flourish, “crossword puzzles.”

Kevin hummed softly and examined the child as she pulled herself up into a standing position using the legs of one of the dining chairs. She was wearing footie pajamas, covered in little wolves and complete with a wolf face on each fat foot. Her cheeks were round, her teeth sparse, and her hair—which was just getting long enough to begin to curl at the nape of her neck—was auburn. Just like her mother’s, and not unlike his own. She took a few shuffling steps while holding on to the chair before losing her balance and plopping softly back into a sitting position.

He cleared his throat. “I just came to get some water.” He walked over to the sink, retrieved a glass, and made as if to return to the study.

Amy fixed her gaze on him. “Kevin…”

Somewhat guiltily he stopped his egress, turned, and sat heavily in the chair next to her. He messed with the hem of his robe for a moment ( _Holt’s robe, not his own,_ Amy noticed) before sighing and admitting, “I have not yet slept.”

Amy prepared a scolding— _it’s been almost two days since the last time we know you slept, it isn’t good for your body, you’ll get sick_ —but held back when she noticed Kevin’s haunted expression. So instead she settled for simply asking, “Why not?”

Kevin resolutely avoided eye contact, staring instead at his wedding ring. “I suppose”—a shaky breath—“I am somewhat afraid.”

This was not quite what Amy was expecting. “Afraid…how?”

Kevin blushed slightly. “I am afraid that I will go to sleep and then wake to find myself alone again. I am afraid that people will keep disappearing, but I will always be the one left behind. I am afraid that I will become lost in myself again, and there will be no one to find me this time.”

He said it all flatly, in a matter-of-fact manner, but Amy could tell that he was making a great effort not to splinter once more. She felt an icy fear at his words—for all they knew, it _could_ happen again. She certainly didn’t _think_ it would—fifty percent had a certain finality to it—but two days ago she also would have never thought it possible for her friends and family to crumble to dust around her. She and the other survivors were living in uncharted territory, trapped in a literal nightmare, and she couldn’t bring herself to console Kevin with disingenuous platitudes that she herself didn’t believe.

“I’m scared too,” she said gently. “And I don’t know what’s going to happen. All I can say for sure is that, as long as we are here, we’ll look out for each other, and that includes not letting you be alone.”

Kevin absentmindedly wiped from his face a single tear that had leaked out. “I suppose that’s the best we have.”

He sat looking miserable for a moment before nodding toward Amy’s paper. “Runcible.”

“Wha—I’m sorry?”

“18 down. The word you are looking for is ‘runcible’.”

“Ah,” Amy smiled as she wrote it in. “Thanks.” She was suddenly overtaken by a large yawn, which she failed to fully stifle.

“Oh, good heavens,” Kevin started pushing back from the table, making to stand up. “I am keeping you up. That was not my intention.”

Amy shook her head groggily, as the full force of the day seemed to finally hit her at once. “No, no, no. I’m kind of bound to what she’s up to, so it’s her, not you.”

Kevin eyed Iggy once more before appearing to come to a decision. “I can take her.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want…”

“Please, Detective, I am re-reading a wonderful epic poem right now anyway, and I would be glad to do so out loud to keep young Miss Linetti here entertained.”

It was truly a sweet offer and, as much as Amy wanted to protest that Kevin needed sleep more than anything, it was undeniable that his mood lightened some at the prospect of having a contribution to make. Or maybe it was at the prospect of not being left alone, even if his would-be companion was still learning to walk. So she relented, urging him to wake her or Rosa if need be.

Kevin hoisted the baby into his arms and made his way back toward the study. As he went, Amy heard him explain the context of where they would be picking up in the poem; and Iggy seemed perfectly content to listen to him, enthralled by his soothing voice.

  

* * *

 

Jake lurched into consciousness around 4:45 am, at first hyper-vigilant, evaluating his surroundings for signs that something was amiss—finding a warm bed, Amy next to him, normal nighttime house noises—before he realized that he had awakened simply because he had to pee. He crept out of bed (but not before kissing Amy’s temple, so she would know he was still around) and into the hallway bathroom. When he emerged, he paused to listen for a moment—and then he caught sight of a soft, dim light bleeding into the front hall from the direction of the living room and study.

Jake sighed. _Dammit Kevin._ He tiptoed down the stairs and to the doorway of the study… and then froze in his steps.

Indeed, a lamp remained on by the couch. But on the couch lay Kevin, very much asleep and breathing steadily, though somehow despair remained readable on his still face. He lay on his back, a blanket pulled partway up his chest. And on his chest, also partly covered in the blanket, slept little Iggy, head resting near Kevin’s heart and holding a fistful of Kevin’s robe in her tiny, fat hand. Kevin’s own arm, the uninjured one, was draped lightly over her back, holding the child in a loose embrace.

Jake smiled. Opting not to risk a disturbance, he left the light on, and rejoined Amy in his own bed.


	4. Chapter 4

As days bled into weeks, something of a routine was established. Two, occasionally three, of the squad would run out for food, to help out however they could at the precinct, to fetch various personal items from their respective homes (until, eventually, they had all effectively fully moved in).

It was always some combination of Jake, Amy, and Rosa who went out. Terry threw himself wholeheartedly into improvising a school-like routine for their three young wards, and no one had the heart to try to pry him away from Ava anyway. Kevin generally assisted Terry. The university was on break indefinitely, although Kevin did sometimes do work as if there would indeed be future conferences to attend and future monographs to publish. Since the first night, he and Iggy had formed a strange bond (“Do you think it’s the hair?” Jake once speculated, receiving nothing but an eye roll in response from Rosa), and it quickly became apparent that both were better off when they stayed close to one another. This held especially true at night, and one of the first trips made after arriving to the Holt-Cozner residence was to fetch a Pack ’n Play from Gina’s apartment so that Iggy could sleep in the study—though more often than not, nap time took place not in the crib but curled up in Kevin’s arms while he read a book and held her close.

Within the first month, Iggy took her first real steps from where she clung to the edge of a coffee table into the safety of Kevin’s outstretched arms.

The world remained in the grip of a strange collective grief. Some held funerals; most didn’t bother. For the most part, society did not crumble, though it did falter here and there. There were a few stressful days about three weeks in, in which the power became suddenly unreliable, flickering on and off sporadically, staying off for almost a day at the longest. But somehow it all got sorted out. Plenty of food remained on the shelves, though not as much as before (some supply chains were, unsurprisingly, disrupted). And crime dropped sharply, more than the expected fifty percent, meaning Jake, Amy, and Rosa didn’t have much actual police work to do. They all anticipated that it would rise back to normal rates—proportionately normal, at least—as time wore on; but for the moment, it was relatively easy going.

One seemingly universal side effect of surviving was frequent, unusual dreams that were so vivid, so lifelike, that they left the impression of not having slept at all. Kids and adults alike were affected, but as time passed, the kids seemed to adapt to them, to take them in stride, whereas the adult members of the squad family (and adults everywhere) developed virtually permanent rings under their eyes.

They were dreams of the ones they lost. For some, it was always the same person. For others, it varied night to night. Sometimes they were good dreams, like visits from friendly ghosts; other times, these same dreams curdled and soured into nightmares.

Terry dreamt of Sharon, of all three of his girls playing together while they sat and watched from the couch. Often the dream was just that. Other times Terry would be going to meet Sharon and the twins somewhere—for lunch, at a library, at the zoo—with Ava in tow, but communication would fail, obstacles would arise, and no matter how hard Terry tried, he couldn’t figure out how to get to them. On these nights, Terry would jolt awake with a strangled cry dying in his throat. All he could do was pull Ava closer and hope that when sleep came, they would be reunited with the whole family.

Jake didn’t dream of just one person. Some nights he’d be staking out a location with Charles, and they’d have a goodnatured argument about what music to play (Jake always let Charles win, hoping so see his face light up with a smile). Or he’d be at Nana’s place with Gina, both kids again, playing hide and seek. Or he’d be sitting in his mom’s house, chatting about former President Jimmy Carter, fondly watched her sip her red wine with ice cubes.

On the bad nights, he and Charles would be searching a location that turned maze-like; Charles would get ahead of Jake, calling back, “Jakey, keep up!” as Jake turned corner after corner, only able to catch brief glimpses of Charles as he raced ahead into danger. Or no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t find Gina’s hiding spot. Or his mom would get up and announce that she would be permanently joining Roger on his flight paths, and that she would try to see Jake for his next birthday, but it may not happen, things were just so busy and there weren’t a lot of reasons now that she was with Roger for her to stick around New York.

Amy mostly dreamt of her parents and brothers; but some nights she would find herself sitting at her desk, rolling her eyes at Charles’s ravings about her and Jake’s future children. Once she found herself shopping with Gina, who proclaimed that she couldn’t in good conscience allow Amy to keep wearing what she described as “drab pantsuits that were rejected from the set of _Working Girl._ ” Amy hated every single thing Gina put her in—and after Gina had put her in three crop tops in a row (all of which would work with no conceivable bra), she protested.

“Gina, why are we doing this? This”—she gestured at her current ensemble—“isn’t me.”

Gina looked up from her phone. “Whatever, I mean, wear what you want. We all know that _ya boring.”_ She tiled her head in emphasis, but then her voice grew serious. “You have to promise me though—you won’t let Iggy grow up to dress like you.”

Amy was too confused to be insulted. “Why would that be up to me?”

Gina was insistent. “ _Promise_ me, Amy.”

“Fine, but… you’ll be the one picking her clothes.”

Gina returned her attention to her phone before simply responding, “You and I both know that’s not true.”

The subjects of Rosa’s dreams changed nightly. Charles, Holt, Gina—they all made appearances. And though she wouldn’t admit it, some of her favorites—when the dreams didn’t become nightmares—were spent reclining in her desk chair, feet propped up, smirking at whatever inane and disgusting conversation Hitchcock and Scully were having.

Kevin’s dreams were either blissful reprieves from his new, husbandless reality or gut wrenching reminders of his loss that left him weeping quietly in the dark of the study, often only finding a small comfort after hoisting a sleeping Iggy into his arms, holding her close, feeling her warm deadweight.

The good nights he and Raymond would simply be driving Gertie in the country, top down, holding hands over the center console and alternating between lazy conversation and contented silence. When Kevin looked at Raymond, framed by the summer sun turning red-orange on the horizon, he seemed to radiate.

The bad nights he would be at work or at home. He would get a phone call, usually from Raymond, but sometimes from another squad member, telling him there was some crisis—an active shooter, a hostage situation, a building rigged to blow—into which Raymond was rushing headlong. Kevin would plead for him not to, but all too soon, the call would cut off, before he even had a chance to say “I love you.” And then he would wait for an interminable time, flipping between news channels, making increasingly desperate phone calls that were never answered, never receiving the news that he knew would come—that Raymond’s job had finally claimed him.

No matter the dream, Kevin always woke with the sound of Cheddar’s barking ringing in his ears. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Some stronger language in this particular chapter, folks.)

Jake estimated that Terry and Kevin bore the heaviest burdens of grief. Sure, they all struggled. Amy’s hair was frequently braided and unbraided; Rosa often flew into fits of rage, stomping out of the house, throwing things in frustration (though she restrained herself from damaging any of Kevin’s property). Jake tried his best to stifle his emotions, his sadness and disappointment over losing his friends, his mother, the man who stood in for what he thought a father should be like. But these emotions would eventually bubble up, and they all had days where they simply, whether alone or together, had to take the time to cry.

The kids were at vastly differing stages of development when it came to their ability to grasp what was happening around them. Iggy, quite obviously, had no real concept of loss or absence, though sometimes she seemed expectant when she heard someone new entering the room she was in, only to return to whatever she was doing before when she found that whoever it was wasn’t who she was looking for. The others would show her pictures of Gina, determined that she wouldn’t grow up not knowing about her mother, and reminded her every night before bed that, “Your mommy loved you very much.”

The adults had to go through the much more difficult process of discussing death with a 3- and 6-year-old. Both were aware of missing family members; being a few years older, Nikolaj had a better grasp on the concept of death than Ava (Jake hated that his more mature concept of death undoubtedly stemmed from experiences he had prior to his adoption, and he hated even more that Nikolaj had to experience what amounted to some sort of abandonment yet again). Still, both expressed confusion over why they couldn’t _see_ their mom or dad or sisters, why if their loved ones were _gone_ they couldn’t just _go_ to wherever that was as well. Their innocent questions were hard to deal with, sometimes completely blindsiding whichever adult they were directed toward; but there was no reason, truly no _way_ , to sugarcoat the situation, so the adults committed themselves to being as open and candid as possible.

When it came right down to it, everyone in the household had more or less lost the same people; but they had lost them in different ways. Jake, Amy, and Rosa had lost squad members, but for Jake, it was his best friend and his oldest friend. For Iggy and Nikolaj, it was parents. For Ava, her older sisters and her mother. But Kevin and Terry had lost the most. Because, at the end of the day, Jake and Amy still had each other. Rosa had both parents, whom she saw frequently, any estrangement and discomfort (on her mother’s side) from her coming out quickly forgotten. Terry and Kevin had lost their beloveds, their other halves.

The additional strain showed in diverse ways. For Terry, there weren’t many observable differences, at least on the surface of things. He still guzzled yogurt, still exercised habitually, still nearly bulged out of his suspenders. It was similar to when the twins were born, but dialed to a 15 and without Holt and Gina to bring him back. He became rather nervous, eschewing anything even close to resembling a risk. He focused all his energy on Ava. Were she a teenager, she would likely resent the constant attention, but as a small child, she seemed to enjoy the consistent presence of her father. It wasn’t that Terry was no longer a good leader—arguably, he had become something like the leader of their makeshift household. It was just that he was persistently weighed down by a deep weariness that almost completely dampened the exuberance he had for his life, work, and family prior to the Event.

He had even, Amy pointed out one night while in bed with Jake, stopped referring to himself in the third person. 

Kevin’s plight manifested in a much more physical manner. He had never, since they’d arrived, reverted back to his cleanly shaven state, instead allowing a beard to fill in his pale face. Undoubtedly, Kevin kept it trimmed and well-groomed—but it seemed a significant change, even as it did little to mask the increasing prominence of his cheekbones. As time wore on, Kevin turned the corner from slender to gaunt. Again, it was Amy who pointed his thinning frame out to Jake, and together they tried to keep an eye on him, to monitor his health. To be fair, he _was_ eating, just not much. At meals he would pick (politely) at his food, never having finished his first small portion in time for seconds. When Jake finally said something to him about it, all he got in return was something surprisingly close to a scowl and a mumbled excuse about a lack of appetite.

Kevin was already the wildcard of the group, the one the others didn’t know quite as well. Sure, Jake had spent months with him in the safe house. But even that extended time together was under extraordinary conditions; and the fact was simply that no one had a completely clear picture of how Kevin carried out his private life. It was hard to say which of his behaviors were in response to what had occurred and which were simply features of his idiosyncratic personality. Jake was reasonably certain that Kevin usually cooked a good deal, and quite well—a practice which he seemed to have abandoned along with his appetite. And he undoubtedly had not spent this much time caring for small children before, though he was not bad at it. He didn’t handle Nikolaj’s and Ava’s bursts of energy terribly well, and tended to excuse himself to do work or tend to his small garden during their more frenetic moments. But he was a fantastic story teller, able to hold all three children in rapt attention as he modulated his voice, raising and lowering his pitch and volume, creating unique speech patterns for each character. These were the rare moments when Kevin’s eyes seemed to regain their liveliness, their usual sharpness, when he seemed the farthest from the pit of anguish into which he hadn’t fully fallen since that first day, but in whose gravitational pull he remained.

A cloud of darkness always seemed to weigh on Kevin, on the worst days rendering him silent and sullen as he would spend most of the day languishing on his couch-bed, staring at the bookshelf, barely engaging the others as they brought food and water. He would robotically eat just enough to get them to leave him alone. Once, Amy found him listening to old voicemails from Holt—she swore she caught a snippet of Holt chiding Kevin for not knowing kindergarten statistics. It was days like these, which never came predictably in response to any stimulus—and which seemed to be increasing rather than decreasing in frequency—that made Jake fear for Kevin and worry that they weren’t doing enough for him. 

Then one day, four months to the day after the Event, Kevin disappeared.

 

* * *

 

The morning started out as any other morning. Rosa and Amy were going out for the day, and Jake had promised to help Nikolaj practice riding his bike once he finished some math worksheets Amy had made for him. By midmorning, Nikolaj was antsy and ready to go outside, skipping excitedly around the house in a helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads (Jake thought the get-up was a little excessive, but he knew it was what Charles would have wanted). 

“Hold on, bud!” Jake called out. Terry was giving Ava a snack, and Jake needed to hand off Iggy to Kevin before he could focus all his attention on Nikolaj. He carried Iggy through the living room and pushed the door to the study open with one foot. “Hey Kevin, can you…”

He trailed off. Kevin wasn’t in the room. Furrowing his brow, Jake backtracked to the foyer and yelled up the stairs, “Kev? Where are you man?” No response came, and Jake walked back to where Terry sat with Ava.

Terry paused what he was doing when he caught Jake’s expression. “Everything okay, Jake?”

“Do you know where Kevin got off to?” A thought crossed his mind. “Actually, have you seen him today at all?”

Terry’s face echoed the uneasiness Jake was feeling. He stood up and told Ava to go play with Nikolaj for a bit. “No…” he intoned, “Now that you mentioned it, I haven’t…” 

“Crap.” Jake had a hunch. He shifted Iggy to his other hip before rushing to the back door, while Terry made for the front of the house. He threw open the door, and his heart sank. “Double crap.” Gertie was gone from her usual parking spot.

Jake slammed the door and found Terry looking equally as flustered as he felt. “Gertie’s not there anymore. He took the car.”

“And he left his phone,” Terry added, tossing the now-useless brick of glass and metal to Jake, who murmured, “Triple crap.”

  

* * *

 

Rosa and Amy returned immediately when Jake called to tell them what was happening. They decided to split up. Rosa would search the immediate area on her bike, while Terry and Jake covered a wider perimeter in the van (with Ava and Nikolaj along for the ride, watching movies in the backseat—a sad substitute for the fun day Nikolaj had been promised). Amy would stay home, both to watch Iggy and so that if Kevin returned— _when_ he returned—it wouldn’t be to an empty house. In the meantime, she tried to contact his family members, on the off-chance he had gone to them, but she didn’t get far. His brother never answered—he was probably one of the gone—and she could never find any contact information for his parents.

Rosa looped back to the house several times throughout the day, never having anything to report. Jake and Terry made it as far as Upper Manhattan, guessing that maybe Kevin had decided to check in on his colleagues, but found the campus virtually deserted. There was no raspberry sherbet colored convertible parked anywhere nearby, and Kevin’s office building was locked.

By late afternoon, driven by the necessities demanded by hunger and stir-crazy children, they all returned, defeated, to the house. Terry took Nikolaj and Ava upstairs to make a blanket fort (their reward for being patient), while Rosa paced the front of the house furiously, flicking a knife open and closed mindlessly. Amy began to pull out ingredients for dinner. Though Jake knew he should probably offer assistance to his cooking-impaired wife, he didn’t feel like doing anything but sit at the table, forehead pressed to the cool wood, arms hanging loosely and dumbly at his sides. Every now and then he’d reach up and hold a veggie straw blindly toward where Iggy sat in her high chair until it was taken away by a clumsy, sticky hand.

“Ughhhh…” Jake moaned.

Amy looked up from washing vegetables. “Babe, I promise, we’ll figure it out.”

Jake flopped his head to the side so that he could see her out of the corner of his eye. “I am pissed and annoyed and angry and so, so, so worried, Ames.”

“I know. I feel the same way too.”

Before Jake could speak again, he heard a commotion from the front of his house. He sprang out of his chair and entered the foyer just as Rosa violently flung open the door, revealing a stunned Kevin, outstretched arm frozen where he was about to unlock the door with his keys.

“What. The. _Hell?_ ” Rosa growled at him.

Kevin stared her down for a moment, expression impassible, before inclining his head toward the street. “Could you kindly move the mini van and your bike so that I can return Gertie to her parking spot?”

As an answer, Rosa snatched the keys from Kevin’s hands, evoking a protest that died as she fixed a hard glare at him, before grabbing her and Terry’s keys from their peg by the door. She shoved Kevin inside on her way out and slammed the door behind her.

Kevin cleared his throat and shifted slightly from foot to foot before releasing the bag that was slung over he shoulder and placing it against the wall. “Well, I believe I will…”

All of the emotions Jake had been feeling before, the force of his fear, his stress, his frustration, concentrated into one: rage. He thought briefly about gritting his teeth through it, about recusing himself in order to cool off. But despite his best efforts—or, more accurately, his thoughts of making an effort to that effect—it all boiled out the moment Kevin tried to be evasive, his unnaturally blasé attitude absolutely infuriating Jake.

“Are you—what the fuck…you’ve gotta be kidding me, man!” Jake sputtered, voice rising uncontrollably. “Where the hell were you?”

If Jake had expected Kevin to startle or offer a meek response, he was wrong. Kevin’s face began to grow red with anger of his own in reaction to Jake’s loud remonstrations. He had the gall to shrug, stating curtly, “I simply desired to fetch a few things from my office, and then I decided to take Gertie for a drive.”

Jake had never been more furious in his life. “For a _drive_? Let me get this straight. You left _without telling anyone._ You left _without your phone._ All so you could go for a drive?! Do you know how fucking worried we were?”

“I’m not a child, Peralta.” Kevin practically spat out his name. “This is my home. I am an adult, and I don’t need to ask permission to do things.” The irony, of course, was how petulant and childish this utterance sounded.

Jake had seen Kevin mad before—he had several times been the subject of Kevin’s ire, and on a small handful of occasions had witnessed Kevin’s quarrels with the Captain—but he had never seen Kevin like this. Relative to Kevin’s normal, he was acting downright unhinged. Kevin always had a sharpness to him in these moments, his remarks and quips cutting and incisive. But here he was nothing but sharp edges—the sort of sharpness that was brittle, fragile, that would cut its opponent but would likely fracture in doing so.

“You and I both know that’s not what I’m saying! Why didn’t you just tell us?” Jake shook his head, sick of the excuses, “Why are you like this? What is _wrong_ with you?”

It seems that Jake had hit a nerve and, as angry as he was, he immediately regretted what he said as hurt flitted briefly across Kevin’s face before he locked down on it, fixing Jake in a cold and stony stare. “Well, see, that is the problem, is it not? I could have told you, I could have,” he sneered, “ _asked_ but you wouldn’t have let me go alone.”

“We’re on buddy system rules! We’re all doing it!”

“Cut the crap, Peralta, you know that is not the only reason why. I see the way you look at me, the way you all watch me like I am some invalid. You treat me as if I am your ward. You don’t trust me. You think I am just going to fall apart.”

Exasperated, Jake protested, “It’s because we care about you. You look tired all the time—more tired than the rest of us—you’re not eating enough, you don’t—“

Kevin cut him off, “That’s not care; that’s pity.”

Jake couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. _You have got to be kidding me…_ “I have had _literally_ this exact argument with your husband.”

“Well it seems you failed to learn your lesson.”

“Why did you even do it? I don’t understand.” Jake tried to soften his tone, to hold out an olive branch. “Please, just help me understand.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Please, you could never understand. You may understand what it’s like to lose _something_ , but I didn’t lose _something._ I lost _everything_ that day. Raymond was my _everything_. You all got to keep someone—family, _your_ partner—but I have _no one_ , and there never was and never will be again anyone who really knows me the way that he did.”

“So, fine, sometimes I have no appetite. Why would I? I wish everyday that it had been me, not Raymond, who was taken by this mad science-fantasy world in which we are living. Then he would be alive and I would not have to know what it feels like to live without him.”

Jake opened his mouth to say something, but Kevin shut him up with a raised hand.

“But of course, I keep going on, I keep eating even when it all tastes like mud to me, because I cannot stop thinking about how profoundly disappointed Raymond would be in me if I did not take care of myself even in this absurd half-life I have been condemned to live.” Kevin took a deliberate breath. “And yes, I never sleep well, because every single night either I see images of rides in the countryside with Raymond—rides I know I will _never_ go on again, that will always be just outside of my grasp—or I have to relive him being taken away from me. And no matter what I dream, when I wake up, he is still gone. So today I figured I might, just for a moment, try to get a little closer to that good dream, but obviously I was always going to fall far short of it, wasn’t I? Because this existence, this _whatever_ it is we are going through, is a nightmare.”

Kevin was no longer yelling; in fact, by the time he finished, he was barely audible.

His final words were carefully measured, his anger dissipating into weariness. “So I _guess_ if I _had_ to answer your earlier question, _that’s_ what is wrong with me.”

Silence fell over the front hall, and before Jake could figure out what to say—what _could_ he say?—Iggy came barreling out of the kitchen, clutching a snack cup full of cheerios, Amy close on her tail looking almost comedically embarrassed and babbling apologies. Kevin seized the opportunity, bending down and sweeping up the toddler before grabbing his bag by the strap.

He gave a terse nod to the other two adults. “You’ll have to excuse me.” And then he withdrew into the study and shut the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Amy apologized for about the sixteenth time while she and Jake were finishing the dishes. “She just got away from me, it’s so much easier before they walk, one second she was next to me and then—“ Jake tossed his dishtowel in her face.

“Stop that. Not your fault. I handled the whole situation horribly and I think it was probably only going to get worse.”

“He probably needed some time to cool off.” Terry offered from where he was leaning against the kitchen island, after-dinner yogurt in hand.

“Whole thing’s pretty messed up anyway,” Rosa added from the table, before turning back to Nikolaj. “No twos. Go fish.” Nikolaj dramatically threw his hands up while Ava giggled maniacally. 

Jake sighed. “Yeah but like—how much time is ‘some time’? It’s been”—he paused to do the math in his head—“almost two and a half hours. Do we think someone should go check on him?”

Amy raised her eyebrows in amusement. “ _Someone_?”

Terry agreed with Amy’s sentiment, “I think this one’s on you, Jake. If one of us goes in there, it’d all be a weird thing until you two talk it out anyway.”

“Oh come on! I am the _last_ person he wants to talk to right now. Rosa?”

Rosa scoffed. “Hard pass. I’m still too pissed at him; I’d probably end up punching him…Plus, I’m busy taking all this kid’s queens.” Nikolaj groaned—but not unhappily—and flicked three of his cards over to Rosa. Ava nearly fell out of her chair in delight.

Jake moaned wordlessly. Amy put a hand on his arm. “You can do this babe. You two have been in tense situations before and worked through it. Here”—she reached into the fridge, taking out a plate of leftovers they had set aside when it became clear Kevin wouldn’t be joining them for dinner—“take this to him. Maybe he’s hungry.” She added it as an afterthought, a little hopefully.

Jake took the plate, holding it between himself and Amy for a moment as he place his forehead lightly on her shoulder, drawing strength and willpower from her. “You guys owe me big time,” he mumbled. Amy laughed and patted his head. He drew himself up and glanced at the food he was holding, a thought forming in his mind. “Actually, I have an idea…”

 

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later, Jake rapped lightly on the study door. Kevin’s voice sounded tired and resigned as he called softly in response, “You may come in.” Jake awkwardly backed his way into the room, pushing the door open with his back so that he could concentrate on not dropping the fancy ham and cheese sandwich he had just slaved over, which he was trying to balance along with a glass of water and a small plate of cookies Amy had insisted he bring along. He turned to find Kevin sitting, perfect posture, in an armchair with Iggy in his lap. She was arranged so that she faced him, and was contentedly alternating between fiddling with Kevin’s tie and playing with his face—grabbing his nose, touching his beard, and so on. A steady stream of toddler nonsense poured from her little mouth; and though it was nothing but babbles, her intention was clear on her small, round face. For his part, Kevin was nodding and humming along, softly crooning, “Oh really!” and “You don’t say?” as if he understood. He kept his gaze steadily focused on her, reluctant to look up at Jake.

Jake crossed the room and placed the food and drink down on the table. “Sorry to interrupt this, ah, important discussion you two are having but… I brought you some dinner… I made you that thing you like, the, uh, croc-monster or whatever.”

_This_ got a reaction out of Kevin, who cringed at the mispronunciation, and forced him to finally acknowledge Jake. All stiff politeness, he replied, “Thank you very much, Detective.” The formality was stifling and weird and Jake was beginning to turn to leave, to give up and face the wrath of the others instead of whatever this was going to be, when Kevin huffed out a breath. “Wait. I am being dismissive, when I should be apologizing.”

Shocked, Jake retraced his steps and plopped down on the edge of the couch. “Wha… no, _I_ came here to apologize.” Kevin tilted his head quizzically. “I mean, _I did,_ I was just doing a very poor job at it and was about to give up very easily…”

Kevin silenced him with a wave of his had. “It doesn’t matter. The way I comported myself before was egregious and foolish. I am afraid I have forgotten how to act like a civilized human being in these…” he paused, “trying times. I was in the wrong.”

Jake protested vehemently. “No, no, no, it wasn’t you.” He thought for a second, “Well, I mean, it was kind of you. Please don’t disappear like that again. You scared us shitless.” Kevin instinctively covered Iggy’s ears with his hands at the strong language, and Jake chuckled. Kevin responded with a small smile, but it failed to mask the remorse that he was now clearly feeling.

“But I made it worse,” Jake stammered, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, and I definitely shouldn’t have said what I did. I had no clue how you were feeling—I should’ve actually talked to you, instead of treating you in a way that just… piled on to what you were already dealing with.”

“You were right though,” Kevin said. Any lingering anger or defensiveness from before was totally gone; left behind was a man so profoundly heartbroken that he looked utterly dejected even as he bounced a giggling toddler up and down on his legs. “There _is_ something wrong with me. Everything I said before is true…I simply should not have tried to place the blame on you and the others, when the problem is with me.”

Jake was emphatic. “You have every reason to feel the way you do. This thing that happened—this world we now live in—is nuts. And you’re right that you were dealt one of the worst hands of us all. It’s stupid, it makes no sense, and it just isn’t fair.”

“It is driving me mad,” Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose, looking up as he fought back tears. “Raymond was _mine_ and I was _his_ and I just got so used to having that—now I don’t know what I am supposed to do without it.”

He continued, “I have always feared this day, you know; his line of work… I knew the risks involved. But somehow _this_ may be… worse.” It was almost a question. _Was it worse to lose his husband this way? How could it not be?_ “And last night when I was just laying here awake after another one of those detestable dreams, I was thinking about that, and it suddenly occurred to me that I needed to make sure I was remembering him _with,_ and not _despite of_ that job because he loved it so much and I…” Kevin snapped his mouth shut and shook his head, words failing. He gestured toward where his bag was leaning against the table, and Jake reached down and pulled out the one object that wasn’t a book: it was Terry’s portrait of Holt.

“Oh. I see.”

Kevin shrugged, before murmuring, “I do not know why, I just suddenly had to have it. It is completely irrational, and a clear sign that I am losing my mind.” He added fondly, “It is a wonderful portrait of him though.”

“Terry really delivered.”

“He adeptly captured Raymond’s warmth and humor and dignity. It is all there.” Jake squinted at the portrait. The dignity… he got that, but he couldn’t see the other attributes on what appeared to him as a completely stoic expression. It was as if the portrait held a secret meaning for Kevin—and for that reason, Jake was glad he had it in his possession now.

Kevin kept talking, all the while focusing on the portrait. “Sometimes I wonder if the ‘no shop talk’ policy was cruel. It was a survival tactic when we instituted it, and it never once occurred to me to amend it until Raymond got the command at the Nine-Nine.”

After so many months of surly near-silence, it was odd to hear Kevin talk so freely about the Captain. The floodgates had opened, and something about the way Kevin sat, the way he comported himself, communicated an anxiousness that he wouldn’t have a chance to say everything he needed to say.

Recognizing this, Jake tried his best to look receptive and attentive as he responded, “Oh, I don’t think… I mean, I always got the impression that the Captain liked having his work life and personal life separate.”

“Of course, but that became less obvious as he took a personal interest in you all. It was not just that he did not have to deal with racist and homophobic nonsense from the squad—that is common decency, really, how everyone should have treated him. What he deserved. No, he thought you all were special. And we sometimes talked about it. But I wish I had let him tell me more, you know, tell me about the things he experienced on cases and in the field that led him to feel that way.”

Jake’s face brightened. “We’re always happy to share stories with you if you want to hear them. I mean, they’d probably end up being more about why we thought _he_ was special than the other way around, but still…” Jake knew it wasn’t quite what Kevin was getting at; it wasn’t just the stories he had missed out on, but the time he would have spent with Holt listening to them, or possibly what it would’ve meant for Holt to be asked to share in the first place. But it was something, and it was all they had available.

“That… would actually be nice.” Kevin looked bemused, but not unhappy. “Thank you.”

Jake went out on a limb. “For what it’s worth, I speak for the whole squad when I say that we could not have possibly loved and respected him more. And…” _Here comes the awkward, Jake._ “Speaking for… myself, I was not exactly kidding when I said that I wished you two were my dads.” Kevin’s eyebrow arched in amusement, and Jake hastily added, “Which I know is weird! But I only bring it up to make two things clear. First, I have always looked up to Capt—to Raymond, and I always will. I will forever be trying to live up to his example.”

Jake cleared his throat to stave off the emotion that was trying to creep its way in. “And second, I want you to know that although I feel a certain responsibility toward you because I look up to your husband and owe him a lot— _and wanted him to be my father_ ” Jake added in a rushed and high tone, “I also care about you because I look up to you too. Your relationship—the sort of partnership I want to model with Amy—wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

He squirmed in his seat and forced himself to make eye contact with Kevin instead of the ceiling. “Sorry to make it weird… I just want to make sure you don’t think we think of you as a burden or someone we’re just obligated to look out for.”

Kevin was stunned. A blush crept up his neck. “Why, that’s rather… sweet of you to say.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching as Iggy blew raspberries and resumed playing with Kevin’s tie. 

“Well…” Jake drawled, pulling himself up from the slouch he had settled into. “I think I’m going to go find Amy. Is there anything else you…?”

Kevin shook his head. “I think I’m all set here.”

“Great. So, let’s review what we learned today!” Jake declared with a childlike flourish. “One! Please don’t leave without telling us again. Super scary, no one enjoyed it. But two! If you feel like going out, you should go out! Just with a phone… or maybe even a buddy.” Kevin rolled his eyes, but it was good-natured. “Three! I apologize for all of us not making the situation any easier. We will try to get our heads out of our…” Jake mouthed the word “asses” with a glance toward the baby.

“And finally, four! We care about you and we want to help you however we can. Do we have a deal?”

Jake dramatically thrust his hand towards Kevin, who generously played along. “Alright,” he droned as they shook hands. “You really must work on your handshake, Jake, its lack of firmness is atrocious.” It was, in Kevin’s own curt manner, a way of saying, _I’m okay. I remember how to be myself._

“Noted,” Jake quipped before bending over to be eye to eye with Iggy. He took her small hand between his thumb and two forefingers and gave it an exaggerated shake. “My good lady!” Iggy gurgled with laughter.

Jake made to leave, but when he was almost to the door Kevin called his name. He turned around, momentarily worried, and hummed in acknowledgment.

“You _do_ know what this is really called, right?” Kevin pointed toward the plate with the sandwich. “That it’s not a”—Kevin wrinkled his nose in disdain—“ _croc-monster._ ”

Jake chuckled, “Oui-oui, Kev. I… speak-a-the-french.” He made a tiny fist with his fingers and shook his hand as he said it. Then he turned and continued out the door.

Kevin sputtered out, “Wait, no, it is important that you—“

Jake called back without turning, “Goodnight, Kev!” And as he made his way to rejoin his wife, he was pretty sure he heard soft, genuine laughter coming from the study.


	7. Chapter 7

Time seemed to slip by faster and faster. Everyone still moved in a general haze, and no would could truly say they were happy, _per se. (_ The dreams and nightmares lingered, and everyone had resigned themselves to the raccoon eyes aesthetic.) It was more that there had finally been ample time to adjust to the new normal, and although the absence of the lost still made itself felt—and would always do so—the squad family found itself able to actually enjoy some small moments.

Most of those moments were because of or for the sake of the kids. Nikolaj eventually mastered his bicycle, and Terry found himself a bike with a small seat on the back that would allow Ava to feel like she was riding too. The three started a habit of early evening bike rides around the neighborhood, and often when they’d get back, the Sarge would throw Ava on one shoulder and Nikolaj on the other, stomping around as the kids dissolved into laughter, cheeks pink from the crisp fall air.

For her part, Iggy, now fully mobile, had started to throw actual words into her constant stream of babbling. She knew a few basic words—“juice,” “bed,” “ball,” a couple of animals—and a few less conventional words—“yoncé” (for when she wanted someone to play her favorite music for her) and “cupcake” (for her favorite treat). She had started to get some names down too; her first was something that sounded roughly like “Kebin”—but sometimes more like “Kemin” or just “Ken” for Kevin. Recently, she had added “Aba” for Ava, “Mamy” for Amy, “Dake” for Jake, and “Osa” for Rosa. She was actively working on “Terry” (“r” sounds being difficult) and “Nikolaj” (which she would undoubtedly end up shortening).

Kevin still had his bad days, but on the whole, nothing as bad as before, and when they did happen, he was far more receptive to help offered by the others. He still struggled the most out of all of them to adjust to the new life they were living. Once, during one of his more withdrawn spells about a month after the Gertie incident, he noted how much he missed the simple act of taking Cheddar on a walk. 

“Oh,” Amy responded, then thoughtfully added, “But I’m guessing you don’t feel like you’d be ready for another dog?” 

Kevin sighed miserably, “Correct. I lost my husband. I could not have at least kept my dog? Could the universe not have just—“

“Thrown you a bone?” Amy jumped in, earning her a scowl from Kevin. “Sorry, I thought a joke might make you feel better. You always talk about how funny the Captain was.”

Kevin simply let his head fall back against the couch, and wistfully said, “No one here can match his aptitude as a humorist…”

Generally, though, he was more engaged in their communal life. He offered to move some wall decorations around, creating an empty space across from the staircase to serve as a “gallery” of the children’s artwork (the central piece anchoring the wall together never changed, however—Rock #86, undoubtedly Raymond’s most accomplished still-life). And Jake and Amy had even goaded him back into cooking some with desperate pleas for him to teach them something, lest they all suffer through yet another rock-hard lasagna. He still rarely did the cooking himself; he claimed he found too much time working over the food overwhelming and a little nauseating. But he often sat at the table with a book and called out tips and suggestions, and on special occasions, would prepare french toast for the kids, complete with a bacon smile. 

One such occasion was a joint birthday party they held for the kids in November. It turned out that Ava and Nikolaj were both November babies, and the timing roughly coincided with Iggy hitting eighteen months, so Jake proposed they roll the whole thing into one celebration. It wasn’t much of a party—it wasn’t like there were guests, just the usual members of the household—but there was cake, which Nikolaj helped make, and they all got a few presents. To make the day extra special, they got to forgo their usual school activities and make a trip to the recently re-opened Children’s Museum instead.

Despite being the only child who _technically_ wasn’t having a birthday, Iggy was by far the most delighted by all the attention, basking in it as everyone sang “Happy Birthday.” Kevin helped her blow out her candles.

Nikolaj got a toy police car and a knight dress-up outfit. Ava got a new set of paints and a slightly smaller version of the same outfit as Nikolaj (knights had been their favorite make-pretend of late). Iggy had the largest haul, due mostly to the fact that she had grown so much in the past six months that she needed almost an entirely new wardrobe. Amy had volunteered to get her new clothes, and had returned with a surprising array of bright clothes covered in sparkles, sequins, and snarky sayings, of little furry vests and striped leggings and tie-dye jumpers and a hat that made her look like a fox. (When Rosa commented on her selections being very… not-Amy, Amy just shrugged and gave her a tight smile.)

Iggy also received from Kevin a copy of Winnie the Pooh… in Latin. Kevin was genuinely astonished by the confused reaction his gift provoked from the others.

“I do not understand what the confusion is. It is Winnie the Pooh.”

“That’s not the confusing part,” Terry tried to explain, as kindly as possible. “Winnie the Pooh is a classic, it’s just that… normally it isn’t in Latin.”

Unfazed, Kevin responded, “Granted, but Iggy needs to be introduced to Latin somehow—”

“Doessssss she?” Jake interrupted in a high pitched tone, as Rosa simultaneously scoffed and said, “No, she does _not_.”

Kevin glared at them and completed his thought. “This will be a fun way to do so.”

“I think it’s a great idea, Kevin,” Amy reassured him. “I always wished that I had learned more languages while I was young.”

Jake was struggling not to laugh. “Ok, but, you’re really going to be the only one able to read that to her, you know.”

Now Kevin was aghast. “ _None_ of you knows Latin?” He looked specifically to Amy, who shook her head and muttered something about doing French instead. “Good heavens. Clearly I should have picked up more than one copy.”

 

* * *

 

Of course, the passage of time brought new challenges, new benchmarks that served as reminders of what had been and what was now. After the children’s birthday party, Thanksgiving went unobserved by an unspoken unanimous agreement. ( _Sure_ , they were thankful for one another, but no one really felt like celebrating gratitude when so much had been taken, and in such a pointless way.) No one was looking forward to Christmas, and they likely would have tried to pass over it too had it not been for the kids.

One of the new challenges was that the legal system had finally gotten its feet under itself, specifically with respect to children orphaned by the Event. Ava was obviously fine, with a living parent. And Nikolaj was straightforward: Charles had named Jake and Amy as his legal guardians in his and Genevieve’s will. They were overwhelmed by the thought of officially becoming parents to a 7-year-old, but they were honored, and they had gladly started the formal adoption process.

Iggy was tricky. Gina hadn’t left a will, and none of her immediate relatives remained living. There was no reason why she _should_ go to someone else; but it also wasn’t immediately apparent what would happen, and the uncertainty was stressful and unwelcome. When the issue had first arisen, Kevin had looked absolutely stricken, leading Rosa to growl, “She is one of us and we will not let her go. They can take her over my dead body.” Because Child Services was still grossly understaffed, the process of making sure she ended up legally under the guardianship of one of the squad family was moving at a snail’s pace, and it would likely be months before the situation was formally resolved one way or another.

As they debated who would be the most compelling candidate for gaining custody of the toddler (Was it Terry, who had been a father for years? Amy and Jake, who were going through the process anyway? Kevin, who was a highly regarded member of the academic community? Or Rosa, who had a fierceness that surely no judge could say no to?), what the squad didn’t know—truly, couldn’t know—was that the point would soon be moot.

Because everything was about to change again.


	8. Chapter 8

This time it was late afternoon. The kids had spent all day running around outside in the unseasonably warm weather, and they were only enticed to come inside and get cleaned up by promises that they could make paper chains and snow flakes to decorate the small tree Rosa had produced the previous day (from where, no one was sure). Terry was finishing up Ava’s bath, while Rosa helped Nikolaj gather his and the others’ laundry—it was his chore for the week. Kevin and Amy were gathering and setting out the craft supplies in the living room, Iggy already intently scribbling away with a crayon on some paper (and, to be honest, on the floor). Jake had just finished popping a big bowl of popcorn and was bringing it and some juice boxes to where the festivities would be.

Later, looking back on what happened, they would all swear they felt the same shift of atmosphere as the first time, the strange unmoving wind, the odd silence that seemed to muffle all ambient noise. But in the moment, all Jake registered were three things, in quick succession: the clipping sound of small paws approaching on the hardwood, Iggy’s small and delighted cry of “Puppy!”, and Amy sneezing.

And then Cheddar came trotting around the corner.

They all stared dumbly at the dog, who ran excitedly up to Kevin’s feet. Trancelike, Kevin dropped to his knees and started patting his head. “Hello Cheddar,” he muttered, the words coming out robotically, dazedly.

A noise came from the kitchen, prompting Jake to rip his eyes away from the man and his dog. He took a step out, around the corner, into the foyer right as Captain Holt entered across the way, from the kitchen. Both men stopped still in their tracks.

Raymond looked around, clearly confused, doing a double take at the children’s art wall and searching carefully for his words before sternly, but not angrily, asking, “Peralta, w…what the hell are you doing in my house?”

Jake felt numb. Some part of his brain yelled at him to do something, to say something, but instead he stood rooted, paralyzed, in his spot, jaw practically on the floor, unable to produce any sound but a lame, wordless squeak.

Around the corner and out of the direct line of sight, Amy had turned to see where Jake went, and Kevin had stretched back up from his crouch to look as well. When Raymond’s voice came booming through the house, they had both frozen. Amy was in the process of turning to say…well, she wasn’t sure what exactly…to a now deathly pale Kevin when his knees gave out. Amy dove toward him, steering his collapse so that he ended up on the couch, elbows on knees and head in hands, and sending a container of markers crashing to the floor in the process.

Jake jolted at the loud clatter. Raymond murmured, “What the devil…” and went stalking past Jake towards the source of the sound. Roused from his stupor, Jake followed.

Yet again Raymond ground to a halt. Whatever he was expecting to find, it clearly wasn’t his living room, covered in craft supplies and inhabited by a toddler and one of his sergeants, in addition to his _very distressed_ looking husband and his dog, who was currently digging into a bowl of spilled popcorn.

Amy looked up from where she had been leaning over Kevin, comforting hand on his back, and yelped. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears.

Raymond, blinking rapidly, trying to determine if what he saw was real, started again, “What the…” when even more chaos erupted. Terry came barreling full force down the stairs, water splashed all over his clothes and carrying Ava wrapped in nothing but a big towel. Frantically, he fumbled for his keys, before pausing briefly to scan the additional occupants of the room. He gave the Captain a quick, and frankly comical, nod before blurting out, “Terry just got a phone call from Sharon,” and running out the door.

As it slammed shut, it was Rosa’s turn to come skidding around the corner. Her eyes widened when she saw Holt, and her voice came out husky as she breathed, “Oh my god.” Then she seemed to put two and two together and locked eyes with Jake.

They spoke at the same time.

“I’m gonna…” “Could you?”

They both nodded without finishing their thoughts, both knowing that Rosa was intending to call Gina or Charles or perhaps Genevieve (who would surely be wondering where Nikolaj and Iggy had gone) and that Jake was asking her to take Iggy so that they could clear space for Holt and Kevin. Rosa practically flung Iggy onto her hip and then went dashing back up the stairs, phone already out. 

All of this had transpired in well under a minute. With Rosa’s retreat, Raymond shook his head as if to clear it and, finally fully processing that something was the matter with Kevin, closed the distance to the couch in three long strides. Amy scampered out of the way to stand with Jake, arm around his waist, while Raymond sat gently next to Kevin…

Kevin, who had not yet looked up to acknowledge him, whose breath was coming out in rough gasps. Concerned, Raymond went to place his hand on his husband’s back, saying gently, “Kevin, what is…” but not finishing his thought as Kevin flinched away from his touch. Kevin shook his head vehemently, croaking out, “No, no, no, no, this is not real…”

Raymond, typically so inscrutable, was visibly hurt by his husband’s response. He looked to where Jake and Amy stood for answers. “Detectives, what reason would my husband have to think this not real? Why…” He paused, realization flooding his face as a shudder passed through him. Articulating each word carefully, he stated, “Ah, I see. I was gone, wasn’t I?”

Jake nodded, his own eyes beginning to water now. Detaching herself slightly from Jake, but still clinging to his hand, Amy leaned over until her face was level with Kevin’s. Almost at a whisper, she reassured him. “Kevin, it’s okay. We see him too. He’s here.”

Tentatively, Kevin lifted his head slightly. Raymond took the opportunity to tenderly pry his hands fully away from his face, cupping his cheek. Kevin allowed his head to be turned toward Raymond.

Raymond sucked in a loud breath when he got his first clear look at Kevin. The beard was, of course, a surprise. But what made him wince was the sharp cheekbones, the dark rings under his eyes. Raymond mused, “Oh, my dear Kevin, what has happened to you?”

Kevin’s eyes finally met his. He took a faltering breath and, incredulous, breathed out, “Raymond?” Raymond widened his arms, opening them towards Kevin as an invitation, and Kevin positively melted into him, head tucked beneath his chin, one arm clinging around his waist as the other gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly. Raymond wrapped Kevin in an embrace, one arm around him, the other clutching his head, fingers in his hair as Kevin began to weep freely. Tears streaming down his own face, voice shaking, Raymond could manage nothing but a steady stream of unwarranted apologies.

Jake and Amy stood back now, feeling a mix of relief at the moving reunion and awkwardness at witnessing what was ultimately an intensely personal moment. Luckily, they needed no excuse to extricate themselves from the room, to give the two men the space they deserved; a sharp but quiet whistle caught their attention. They turned to find Rosa poking her head around the corner. She waved them over, phone in hand. They followed her to the kitchen.

“Here,” Rosa said, her tone serious and brusque as ever but her face betraying her excitement as she thrusted the phone towards Jake.

He held the phone to his ear. “Uh… hello?”

“Jakey! Oh thank god…”

A grin bloomed across Jake’s face. “Oh my god, Charles…” Amy too was smiling now, leaning towards Jake’s ear to catch what she could and bobbing on the balls of her feet. Jake switched the phone to speaker.

“What is going on, buddy? Rosa is telling me we’ve been gone for months and… hey!”

There was a shuffling from the other side of the line, which was quickly replaced by a new voice. “Jake, Twitter is blowing up right now, I think my phone is going to explode and I don’t understand any of the hashtags that are trending.”

Jake laughed, delighted to hear Gina’s voice. “Yeah you guys have missed… some things.”

“You guys have all been camping at Holt’s place? With my boy Kev? How’s he doing?” Jake had known Gina long enough to sense the genuine concern underlying her seemingly blasé question.

Amy chimed in, “Much better than before, I think.”

Charles seemed to have regained partial control of the phone. “Thank you so much for taking care of Nikolaj—“ “And the Enigma—“ “We’re going to figure out how to get Genevieve and then come to you.”

They all talked for a few moments, hashing out a plan. Rosa would go on her bike to intercept them; they would need guiding through the still-barricaded streets. Jake and Amy were to stay with Nikolaj and Iggy until they all returned.

The next few hours were a blur of activity. With Rosa gone, Jake and Amy did their best to juggle watching the kids—who didn’t really understand what was going on (how were Jake and Amy supposed to explain to Nikolaj that his parents were back, after so many months trying to help him understand their absence?)—with staying out of Holt and Kevin’s way. And then there were the virtually endless phone calls: from Amy’s parents and brothers; from Jake’s mom; from Rosa, informing them that the roads were once more jammed up and that it would be a while; from Hitchcock and Scully, declaring that they were headed to Wing Slutz; from Terry, exclaiming that he had Sharon and all his babies and that they were staying home together tonight but that he’d touch base the next morning.

Finally, at nearly 10 pm, they got the call that Rosa and the others would be arriving shortly. Jake carried Nikolaj, who was half asleep, on his back down the stairs, while Amy followed with Iggy. Jake settled Nikolaj on the bottom step; Cheddar immediately trotted up to lick his hands and face, eliciting drowsy giggles from the boy. Amy set Iggy down next to him before poking her head tentatively around the corner.

Holt and Kevin had hardly moved at all, still entangled in a way that for them would usually qualify as egregious PDA, but for most would just be considering snuggling. Raymond aimlessly traced the lightly raised scars on Kevin’s right hand.

Amy’s heart filled at the sight, and she hated that she had to interrupt. “Captain. Kevin.” Her voice came out an awkward squeak—from the emotions, yes, but also from her allergies. She cleared her throat. “The others will be arriving soon. Once they’re all here we can start figuring out how to get out of your hair in the next day or so.”

They both sat up a little straighter, but their hands remained intertwined. Raymond spoke up first, “Do not worry about it at all, Santiago. My understanding is that our home has been yours as well for quite some time now. We”—Kevin smiled at his use of the collective pronoun—“are happy to keep it open to the whole squad for however long is needed in this time of transition.”

Amy beamed. “That’s very generous, sir.” She glanced down at where Iggy, somewhat drunkenly due to the late hour (she had started to show signs of over-tiredness, teetering on the edge of a full meltdown), had wandered past her into the room. “It will be quite a full house.”

Iggy caught sight of Kevin. She had some sense that it was bed time, and that, therefore, she needed to go to Kevin in order to go to bed. As she stumbled over, hands making little grabbing motions in the air in front of her and whining “Peaz? Peaz?” (her approximation of “please”), Kevin instinctively reached out to her and called softly, “Come here, darling.” Her hands shot straight up to meet his, and he pulled her into his lap, where she immediately nuzzled in and began playing sleepily with the watch on Kevin’s wrist. 

Amy had never seen the Captain look quite so baffled. Clearly Kevin had not made it a practice to spend much time with babies prior to Iggy. She tried her best not to laugh, but the emotional day and her own tiredness made it impossible for her to prevent the hysterical giggle that escaped.

Kevin was equally amused by his husband’s response and offered, somewhat sheepishly, “I have befriended the baby.”

Voices came booming from the front lawn. Kevin and Raymond shot up out of their seats, and they all made their way to the front hall as Charles and Genevieve came bursting in.

“Mama! Papa!” Nikolaj cried, flinging himself into their arms as they sank to the floor as a unit, folding him into a hug. Cheddar, feeding off the energy of the room, began yapping and hopping around.

Gina and Rosa were not far behind; the moment they crossed the threshold, Gina’s frantic eyes scanned the room for her daughter, and she made a beeline toward where Kevin stood with the child.

“Iggy, it’s me!” Gina yelled. Overwhelmed by the chaos, tired from the late hour, and generally confused by the sudden reappearance of her mother, Iggy began to cry and clung tighter to Kevin as she turned her face into his shoulder. Gina also reeled back slightly. 6+ months was a long period of time by any stretch of the imagination. But for a child Iggy’s age—for a child who had been barely one at the time of the Event—the passage of time made an immense difference in appearance and development. It amounted to a full third of the Iggy’s life, and in the place of her baby, Gina found a toddler who suddenly had enough hair to form two pigtails on the top of her head; whose face had lost some of its infant roundness; and whose limbs had begun the process of stretching, of losing their baby rolls.

Kevin cleared his throat awkwardly as he patted the child on the back. “Oh, um, Iggy, this is your mother, remember?” His kind eyes implored Gina to try again.

She reached out a rubbed a knuckle gently on Iggy’s cheek. “Come here, baby.” Iggy relented and finally turned to look at her mother. For a moment more, she remained suspicious—but then she reached an arm out to Gina, and allowed Kevin to hand her over.

Gina closed her eyes momentarily as she pressed kisses to the top of Iggy’s head. Then she gave her daughter another critical look. “Damn, Iggy, these PJs are dope.” She looked at the others. “Where did she get these?” Amy raised her hand, and Gina shrugged approvingly. “I’m impressed, Pantsuits.” Jake gave his wife an enthusiastic thumbs-up, before wrapping his oldest friend in a crushing hug.

The next half hour was a strange and emotional reunion. Its strangeness was the result of a deep asymmetry at play. The ones who had been left behind had experienced the passage of upwards of six months without the others, and their abrupt reappearance was at this point as much a surprise—though an entirely welcome one—as their disappearance. The survivors were seeing the dead walk again, the ghosts who had haunted their dreams suddenly reincarnated before their very eyes. In contrast, the others, the gone and then returned, felt as if they had just seen their friends and loved ones hours ago—though they possessed some vague sense, some half-memories, of their own absence. And everything around them served as disturbing and unsettling reminders of the time they had lost. The weather had changed; Holt’s house had been completely upended; the city as a whole just felt…different.And they saw in the survivors a host of subtle changes—new haircuts, different facial hair, unfamiliar mannerisms, and of course, the deep rings under their eyes—that combined to great effect.

They were all haunted in some way, and the weight of their experiences colored the whole scene, however genuinely happy everyone was as they shared hugs and exclamations of affection and excitement.

There would be more time for reunions and for processing what had happened in the coming weeks and months. But it was past late, and the group’s energy waned quickly. By necessity, the sleeping arrangements shifted. Kevin and Raymond were to reclaim their bedroom, while Amy and Jake gave their guest room to the Boyle clan. Gina would take over Kevin’s couch, mostly to maintain some continuity for Iggy, and Rosa, Jake, and Amy would set up in the living room.

Soon, after Rosa had dragged her air mattress down the stairs, only Jake, Amy, Kevin, and Raymond remained awake, carrying on a quiet conversation in the kitchen.

Kevin poorly stifled a yawn. He had been rather quiet for most of the evening, rarely tearing his eyes away from his husband, intently watching his every movement and facial expression. Raymond laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

“I do believe we should retire, Kevin. You look as if you are about to fall over.”

Somewhat painfully Jake reflected on how that had more or less been Kevin’s state for the past six months. _But it would all be better now,_ he thought.

“You are quite right, my dear,” Kevin responded, giving Raymond a soft peck on the cheek.

Jake couldn’t help but smile. “Awwwww… you two are so cute.” Amy slapped his arm.

Raymond rolled his eyes, but Kevin actually chuckled. He was far too pleased to have his husband back to be perturbed by Jake’s childishness.

Raymond nodded to his husband. “Why don’t you go on up and prepare for bed. I want to speak with my detectives for a moment.” Kevin looked hesitant to let Raymond out of his sight, so he added, “It really will only be a minute. I promise.”

Kevin relaxed slightly. “Very well then.” He looked to Amy and Jake and gave them the most genuine, buoyant smile that they had seen on him since everything had begun—and perhaps since they had known him. “Goodnight Amy, Jake.” Amy took it as an invitation and wrapped Kevin in a warm hug. And it felt surprisingly natural when Kevin followed up by giving Jake a sincere hug as well, before whistling for the dog as he made his way up the stairs.

Raymond waited until Kevin was out of earshot before turning to the detectives. “I know that I do not know even a portion of what occurred in my… absence, but from what Kevin has told me so far, I believe I owe you two in particular a huge debt of gratitude for being there for him. It means a great deal to me.”

A lump formed in Jake’s throat. “Oh, Captain, you don’t have to…” Whatever protest he had been making died on his lips as Raymond drew both of them into an embrace.

Amy simply whispered, “We are so happy you are back, sir.”

Raymond pulled back after a moment, a stray tear unacknowledged as it ran down his cheek. His sniffed, and then smiled.

“Goodnight detectives.”

 

* * *

 

It had all still happened. The return of their loved ones could not entirely—or at least immediately—eclipse the pain of having them ripped away, the memories of life without them, or the weight of the knowledge that such a thing might even be possible. But for the moment, having them back was all that mattered.

And that night, as Amy and Jake slept, curled up on two couches pushed together, there were no more dreams, just rest and the comfort that came from knowing that the ones they loved would be there in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read along. I really enjoyed writing this story, and the love and comments were much appreciated!


	9. Chapter 8 Alternate Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate to Ch. 8 with Endgame compliant time jump  
> (So going from the end of Ch. 7 minus the last few lines)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After watching Endgame (which...ouch), I wanted to explore how the story might have changed if it had really been that long. To be honest, I didn't put that big of a time jump in the first time because I expected Endgame to have some "turning back time magic" rather than sitting with the consequences of a world that now knows such a thing is possible and had to live with it for a while. But, that's not what we got, so here's another take on how this story could end.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has read the story. I've really appreciated all the comments and kudos!

More and more, Jake caught himself thinking about time. Specifically, the passage of time and how weird it is to experience this passage. He didn’t fancy himself a philosopher or anything (because… _boring_ ) but as months bled into years bled into half a decade, he couldn’t help himself as trite sayings—“the days are long but the years are short,” that sort of nonsense—flitted into his brain, unbidden and unwanted, somehow accurate even though they were really the sort of platitude that only belonged on the greeting cards your great-aunt sends you.

The fact was that at this point “before” felt like a completely different lifetime—a fantasy, a fleeting dream. It wasn’t that he and the others couldn’t or didn’t remember their lives, their friends, how the world worked; it was more like the events of that day had brought crashing down a thick pane of fogged glass, sealing off the survivors from that which they were forced to leave behind, which they could now only view through distortions, as impressions. Their lives began anew the day so many others were lost.

Yet as Jake stood in the foyer near the stairs, he held in his arms another new beginning: Charlotte, three and a half and squirming in her desperate attempts to prolong her bedtime routine. Her birth had been another rupture in time, though this one different in nature. Jake’s life was now split into three eras: time before the event, time after the Event and before Charlotte, and time with Charlotte, still shadowed by what happened but suddenly so much more beautiful and so much more complicated. It was almost a miracle, the arrival of this little person, with her mother’s warm and inquisitive eyes, her father’s open-mouthed smile and untamable hair. She came from and into a world completely torn apart; and though her presence alone could never fix things, it tied Jake’s and Amy’s lives to this new reality in a way they hadn’t been before. They could no longer yearn for their lives before the event, because those lives, rich and meaningful though they were, did not have Charlotte in them.

(That there was no such rupture in time with Nikolaj in no way represented a diminished or lesser degree of love for him. He was Jake’s and Amy’s, fully, full stop. But his coming to be theirs coincided with—was part of—the Event.)

Sometimes Jake felt almost guilty, like they were moving on, like somehow they were betraying Charles, Gina, Holt, the others, by finding something as precious as their daughter in their absence. But then he would think about the joy Charlotte brought to him, to Amy, to all the others, how she fit right into their blended family, and brought a sense of wonder and childlike glee into the house.

At the moment, that joyfulness was manifesting itself in one of her more silly and distractible moods. Jake tried his best not to laugh too much, not to encourage what could at some point become bad behavior. But it was hard. She was a damn cute kid.

“Come on, Charlie, you know this one,” Jake encouraged her, tapping the picture frame on the wall in question. Charlotte played with one of his ears as she rested her chin atop his head, giggling as she hummed her uncertainty.

“Ummmm….”

“Ok,” Jake said, “We’ll start with one you know really well, let you get warmed up that way.” He pointed at the picture of his mom.

“Grandma!” Charlotte chirped.

“Too easy. So are these two.” Jake pointed to the picture of Amy’s parents.

“Nona and Papa!”

“What about these two?”

“Um… New York’s worst detectives?” Charlotte guessed, carefully articulating each word.

Jake laughed heartily. “Good job, babydoll. Your Auntie Rosa taught you well. Though at some point your mom’s gonna kill me if we don’t call them by their real names.”

Charlotte peered at the picture of Scully and Hitchcock sitting together on the old grody couch in the break room. “I can’t ever remember which one is which.”

“I know, we’ll work on it, you’re doing great. Which one do you want to do next?”

This had been their routine for the past few months, ever since Amy had expressed her dismay that Charlotte wouldn’t know most of her grandparents or the other members of the Nine-Nine family. The solution was actually Rosa’s idea; she had gathered the pictures that had, up to that point, been strewn across the house and hung them together on the wall of the foyer, which now served as an entry way to the other half of the house.

About a year after everything had happened, the old lady (widowed before the Event) in the unit next door had decided to move upstate to be closer to her remaining grandchildren. The housing market wasn’t exactly booming, given the wild surplus of living spaces that a fifty percent reduction of the population leaves behind, so it wasn’t financially difficult for the remaining members of the Nine-Nine to come up with the funds to buy it. They had long before divested of their own, pre-Event living quarters, opting to stick together for the foreseeable future. Rosa had made eerily quick work of the renovations necessary to connect the two units into one larger house and to convert spaces into formal bedrooms, allowing for Kevin to finally move out of the study (but never back into his and Holt’s master) and for Rosa to get her own room. It fit eight much better than before, and had the space to accommodate the addition of Charlotte, when she came, as well as Jocelyn, whom Rosa had met right before Charlotte was born and who moved in about a year later. She was a natural addition to the family, easily establishing a comfortable rapport with kids and adults alike.

“That one?” Charlotte was tentative, not quite confident in her pick as she pointed at the picture of Gina holding a little bundle in her arms.

“Good choice. You know this one.”

“Gi—Gina?”

“Right! And who’s that in her arms?”

Charlotte was sure of herself now. “Iggy!”

In the end, Rosa and Amy had tracked down a kind but frazzled lawyer specializing in cases of unclear custody, and he had advised them that Terry would be the easiest case for ensuring that Iggy remained with the team. And he was right—once that decision was made, the process was relatively painless. Of course, it didn’t really matter who got formal custody of Iggy. They all co-parented the kids; and more to the point, Iggy was all but Kevin’s, anyway. She had been since she had, for whatever reason, chosen him that first night; and she had never unchosen him.

Amy once remarked over coffee that Iggy was growing up into the most fascinating case of nature vs. nurture. There were some things the now six-year-old did that were all Gina; others that she had clearly picked up from Kevin. She definitely expressed those qualities Kevin and Gina shared, that had made them relatively fast friends all those years ago: a low tolerance for bullshit, a proclivity for eye rolling, the sort of snarkiness that could be at once pointed and gentle, often humorous but, if she got mad, had an absolutely devastating ability to take down whoever had come in her crosshairs. Still, the most fascinating moments were the ones in which Iggy embodied seemingly disparate traits of her late mother and Kevin (she had never called him “Dad” or anything; her term of endearment for him was “Doc,” something she’d picked up as a three-year-old when he had returned to work at the university).

One such moment had been the previous Halloween, when Iggy’s inheritance of Gina’s wild and flashy exuberance melded with her genuine love of and interest in the stories Kevin told her every night before bed to produce a feral five-year-old running about the neighborhood, dressed to the nines as a Greek goddess, screaming at the top of her lungs, “I SPRUNG FULLY FORMED FROM ZEUS’S HEAD.” Now at six, Iggy was already a complex little person: thoughtful and intelligent; unusually well-spoken, due in large part to how Kevin talked to her like a peer; imaginative and quick on her feet. They all thought that Gina would be proud of who she was becoming.

Kevin sure was.

Jake pointed to the next frame and cleared his throat to indicate that they needed to move along.

Charlotte absentmindedly rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “That one is…Charles.” Jake held his hand up, and Charlotte gave him a rather uncoordinated hi-five.

At eleven, Nikolaj remained a small kid. He looked almost the same as before—same glasses, same big eyes, same haircut—just scaled up a little bit. Jake could not have asked for a better big brother for Charlotte, who was pretty sure Nikolaj had hung the moon. For his part, Nikolaj was extremely fond of her; when she was born, he had often insisted on sitting up with Jake or Amy, offering to hold the baby whenever they got too tired.

He was truly an amazing kid. His love of cooking had never waned, perhaps because it kept him connected to Charles and Genevieve (though Jake and Amy weren’t sure whether this was a conscious decision on his part or just something instilled in him when he was four). And the whole household benefitted from his burgeoning skillset. If Amy had to guess, he would either end up being a chef or some sort of academic. He had a genuine curiosity for any number of things, reading piles and piles of books on whatever topic currently caught his fancy. For this reason, he got along particularly well with Kevin, though he had also immediately taken to Jocelyn, with whom he shared a certain warmth and amiability. (He had never kicked the Boyle habit of freely proclaiming his love for people, which made Jake happy.)

Sometimes he called Jake and Amy by their first names, other times he’d call them “Mom” and “Dad”—but never “Mama” and “Papa.” He switched back and forth according to no apparent reasoning or pattern, and Jake and Amy never pressed the matter. They wanted him to feel comfortable no matter what. He could be sensitive at times. He hadn’t, for example, taken particularly well to Charlotte’s new obsession with ghosts and ghost stories. He would listen patiently while Charlie spun what a three-year-old thought was a spooky story, giving her encouraging nods and smiles. But Jake could see that he was uncomfortable. Less, he wagered, because there was anything genuinely scary about what Charlie came up with, but because of all the kids he was the only one who remembered “before” well enough to know what it is like to be haunted by something. This was, of course, only a guess. With adolescence lurking right around the corner, Nikolaj only responded to Jake’s and Amy’s questions about what was bothering him with a shrug and averted eyes.

“Who are these people?” Jake indicated the photo of Sharon and the twins.

Charlotte’s small face scrunched up in thought. “Uncle Terry’s Sherry.”

“Sharon,” Jake corrected, trying not to laugh at this common mistake (the rhyme was just too tempting for a child struggling to remember the names of a bunch of people she had never met).

“Sharon,” Charlotte repeated in a whisper. “And… Ava’s big sisters.” She paused for a beat, then added, “Is it okay if I don’t remember their names right now?”

Jake kissed her forehead. “It’s fine. Their names are Cagney and Lacey.”

After everything had calmed down and Ava had started elementary school, Terry had finally accepted that security job. It felt more reliable and stable than the current state of police work, paid good money, and made it easy for him to take off when he needed to be somewhere for Ava.

Terry would never fully recover from losing Sharon and the twins. But he and Ava had carved out a special corner in their communal life, proving again and again what they had all already known: that Terry was, above all else, a great father. Ava wanted nothing more than to be like her father, and she loved any time she got to spend with him. They played every possible sport together—basketball, tennis, soccer—and recently Ava had gotten old enough to enter into some obstacle races and mini-triathlons with Terry.

Ava loved Nikolaj, Iggy, and, when she arrived, Charlotte; but there was no doubt that Terry was her best friend.

“Last one, Charlie,” Jake said, holding his daughter right next to the final frame on the wall.

“Holt!” Charlotte beamed up at Jake, proud of herself.

“Uh-uh, this man right here,” Jake nodded at the photo of Holt in full police regalia, “was all about decorum and honor and all that nonsense. You gotta tell me his full, fancy name.”

She giggled, a little hysterically. “Captain Raym—Raymond… um…”

“Jacob,” Jake supplied.

“Jacob Holt!”

Jake dramatically checked his watch. “Wow, record time, kiddo!”

“I can do it again?” Charlotte pleaded, sincerely, hopefully, blinking up at Jake with intentional puppy-dog eyes.

Jake laughed. “No ma’am, it’s bed for you now and you know it.” Charlotte sighed dramatically. Her disappointment was nothing but a show, and she was content to lean her head on his shoulder, one arm holding loosely to the back of his neck, as he walked across the front of the house into the hallway that now contained the two small-ish bedrooms that held the four children. He stopped in the doorway of the first, and leaned in to see Nikolaj already settled in the top bunk of the bed he shared with Ava. (They all knew this arrangement would eventually become untenable, and that Nikolaj would need his own room. But last they checked with the two kids, they both insisted that they didn’t want to move yet.) He was flipping through a book on rare mushrooms, but put it down when he saw Jake and Charlotte standing in the doorway. He shoved his glasses back on.

Jake smiled at him as he walked over to the bed. “Hey bud, we’re just stopping by to say goodnight.”

Nikolaj leaned over the railing and planted a kiss on Charlotte’s head. “Night night, Charlie. I love you.”

“Night, Niko. Love you too.”

Jake reached up and ruffled his hair, before asking, “You good in here?” Nikolaj nodded. “Amy and I will be back in a half hour to say goodnight, ok?”

“Ok,” Nikolaj said, already pulling off his glasses again and reaching for his book.

The lights in Iggy and Charlotte’s room were already dimmed, down to just the one lamp on the table sitting between the two single beds. Kevin was seated on the edge of Iggy’s bed, talking softly to her as she looked up at him with adoring eyes, hugging her stuffed wolf tightly to her chest. Kevin glanced up at Jake and Charlotte as they passed by the foot of Iggy’s bed.

“Good timing, we were just finishing up here.”

Jake talked as he settled Charlotte in the bed and began to tuck her in tight. “Yeah, well, someone here”—Charlotte giggled—“really likes to drag things out when it comes to bed time.”

Kevin chuckled and tucked a stray piece of hair behind Iggy’s ear. “I think we know a little something about that…may or may not have repeated our story a few times tonight.”

Iggy whined in fake offense. “I just wanted to make sure I remembered all the details…”

“I know, Bug.” Kevin hummed as he pulled the sheets up to cover her more fully.

Kevin had come a long way in the past five years. It helped, of course, that the dreams that had plagued them all in those first months faded with time—though as much as it was a relief to sleep better, it also felt like a loss as those vivid encounters with the ones who had vanished grew more and more dim. The point is, he was better rested, also better fed, than before. The beard had stuck around—with the exception of the one time he had shaven it and two-year-old Iggy had panicked and run crying from him, which in turn made Kevin panic and shed his own tears.

It was Rosa who had found him looking miserable at the kitchen table, head in hands.

“Is this really about the beard?” she asked gruffly, not one to beat around the bush.

Kevin sighed. “I don’t… I don’t know? She has never run from me like that, and it felt, I hated how that felt.”

Rosa waited patiently while he sat and thought for a moment.

“I guess it is also…I never had the beard before. But I…like the rest of this whole situation, there is just…no going back to how things were.”

And that was that. The beard grew back within a few weeks and he never shaved it again.

When the university reopened, Kevin was at first hesitant to return. He said it was because he didn’t want to leave behind Iggy, and surely that was part of it, but the others suspected it had more to do with how going back to work would make him face his old life. But by then Iggy had a spot at a local pre-school, and either Amy or Jake was almost always home with baby Charlotte anyway, so he had no real excuse. It quickly became apparent how good this added semblance of normalcy was for Kevin. He always seemed more animated when he returned home at the end of the day, whether by some scholarly conundrum that was keeping his brain occupied or by righteous outrage over yet another inane departmental meeting that could have been an email. That boost in mood in turn helped him keep up with an increasingly active Iggy, as well as the other kids, where before he would have withdrawn into the darkness of the study and his own thoughts.

Obviously he missed Raymond dearly, and little things would get to him in ways that surprised the others (though they all, of course, had these moments). One time something on Jeopardy just about reduced him to tears, and Amy was so busy trying to distract Iggy and Nikolaj from noticing that she herself wasn’t able to figure out what exactly had happened. Kevin maintained a certain intensity that Jake certainly didn’t remember him having before, that he suspected had something to do with losing Holt; but it was enough for him that Kevin was no longer utterly despondent, that he seemed to have found some purpose, that it was now possible for him to recall stories about Raymond and share them with the others with laughter in his eyes, rather than just tears.

Kevin leaned down and kissed Iggy’s forehead. She yawned as he stood to leave and mumbled something, indiscernible to Jake, but which Kevin apparently caught, as he responded, “Love you too, darling.” As he left, he called back, “Goodnight, Charlotte.”

“Night, Uncle Kevin.”

Jake took one last look at his daughter before leaning over to flick off the light. The room was plunged into a cool darkness, and he heard Charlotte shift around to get comfortable.

“When is mommy getting home?” Charlotte’s voice sounded small now that she was starting to settle down.

Amy had to stay behind at the precinct to finish some work (she was now a Lieutenant—not quite where she was supposed to be according to her original five year plan, but an impressive feat nonetheless given the shake-up caused by the events of five years ago and the birth of their child). “Real soon. But you have to go to sleep now. I promise she will come in and give you a kiss when she gets here.”

The child sighed half-heartedly, her last attempt at putting off bedtime fully thwarted.

“But… I can give you lots of kisses to make up for it? How about that?” Jake leaned over and peppered Charlotte’s face with kisses until he felt her small hands start to push him away.

There was laughter in her voice as she said, “Ok, fine, love you daddy.”

“Love you too.”

With one final kiss, Jake stood up and walked out, quietly adding, “Night, Igs,” as he passed the other bed. He expected—and received—no response. The girl had inherited Gina’s remarkable ability to go from awake to fully asleep in about a minute flat, and he could already hear her breathing steadily in sleep. Charlotte was a good sleeper for her age, and would be quick to follow suit. There was almost no risk in Amy creeping in to give her daughter the kiss Jake had promised; she would not be awake for it, nor would it wake her.

Jake smiled to himself as he carefully shut the door behind him and went to join the others in the living room.

* * *

Jake and Amy were having a lazy Saturday morning when a shriek carried its way from the kitchen all the way to the living room where they sat. Amy peered over the top of her magazine, raising an eyebrow as she met Jake’s eyes. The squeal had held that strange combination of excitement and terror that only their daughter was capable of, and, though it normally just meant that she had found a particularly gross bug, they still felt obliged to check on her. Jake sighed and tossed the remote to Nikolaj, who was stretched out on the carpet.

“I’ll go check on our little monster,” he said, groaning as he stood from his comfortable place on the couch. He bent over and gathered the plates and silverware still strewn around from breakfast (Nikolaj had insisted on making cornmeal pancakes, one of his current specialties). “I need to run the dishwasher anyway.”

Amy gave him a thumbs up as he left, and started looking back at her magazine. Nikolaj shifted his position, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that his own plate, sticky with syrup residue, was still on the floor next to him.

“Niko, bud, your plate.”

He glanced from the tv, to the plate, to her. “Oh, oops. Sorry Mom… want me to…?”

Amy put her magazine aside and held her hand out. “Nah, I got it. I think I want a refill on coffee.” Nikolaj gave her a small smile, attention shifting back to the tv before she had fully left the room.

Amy had barely reached the doorway of the kitchen when she noticed Jake standing stiffly at the counter, apparently transfixed by something out of her own line of sight. Odd, she thought, but before she could investigate, Charlotte came bursting towards her, tugging on the bottom of her shirt, talking a hundred miles a minute. It took Amy what felt like a very long time to focus in on exactly what her daughter was babbling, and even then it hardly made sense.

“—ghosts in the kitchen…I _know_ this one is real, mommy, I think daddy sees it too and—“

Amy squatted down so that she was at eye level with Charlotte and asked, “What, baby?”

With a huff of frustration, Charlotte pointed in the direction Jake was still staring. “The ghost is here. It’s Uncle Kevin’s Captain.”

“Jake, what did…” Amy trailed off as she came more fully into the room, allowing the far back corner of the kitchen to finally come into view. And standing at the table, mirroring Jake’s own stiff and tense posture, was Raymond Holt.

“ _Holy shit._ ” She breathed out, absentmindedly depositing the plate on the counter and pulling Charlotte towards her in the same movement, eyes never once leaving her long-dead (or so they thought) Captain.

Charlotte had finally quieted down, unsure of what was going on now that both of her parents had been rendered nearly speechless by the stranger in their kitchen. For his part, Raymond’s eyes darted around the room in palpable confusion—to Jake, to Amy, to the crayon drawings covering the fridge, to the new blender on the counter Terry had bought a couple months ago—before they landed on Charlotte. The child didn’t shrink under his scrutinizing gaze, instead staring back at him with a similar curiosity and intensity.

Eventually, he found his voice. “What is this? Santiago, Peralta, who… who’s child is that?”

Jake’s answer was barely more than a whisper. “Ours. She’s… um, this is Charlotte.”

“Hello, Charlotte.” Raymond muttered, somewhat lamely, clearly not fully processing what he was seeing, what appeared to be the sudden presence of a three and a half year old child. “And… why are you all… here?”

 _Oh god, where to begin?_ Amy thought, brain scrambling for purchase.

A small creak at the back door heralded the sudden arrival to the scene of Iggy and Kevin, who had spent most of the morning working out in Kevin’s garden, as they did most Saturdays when the weather allowed for it. They looked a perfect pair: the same flushed cheeks shone on faces partially covered by matching grey ball caps (“rose shearing hats” as Kevin, and now Iggy, called them). Two auburn braids poked out from under Iggy’s hat. Her knobby knees were covered in dirt, and a small spade stuck out the pocket of her bright pink overalls. She hadn’t yet taken off the gardening gloves Kevin had bought her for Easter. For his part, Kevin was dressed in a sensible but casual polo shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of slacks; in his arms he carried a stack of terra cotta pots from which they had been transferring some seedlings.

The pots went crashing to the ground when Kevin caught sight of Raymond. Iggy yelped at the unexpected noise and, suddenly aware that something strange (and so, a little scary) was going on, instinctively hid herself behind Kevin, grasping tightly onto his pant leg with one of her gloved hands.

For one brief but horrible moment Amy thought Kevin might go down, her mind flashing back to how he was those first days and weeks following the Event. But it seemed that Iggy grounded him, and as he reached around to place a comforting hand on her back, he managed to choke out a strangled, “ _Raymond?!_ ”

Raymond seemed startled, taking in Kevin’s bearded face before looking once more to Jake. “And is that _also_ your child?”

Jake barked out an odd laugh, then cleared his throat and, not knowing what to say but the truth, answered, “No, that’s Iggy.”

“Impossible. Iggy is a child of only one. We just sent her a birthday card a short while ago.”

It was Amy who spoke up this time. “No, sir, I’m sorry, but you…you’ve missed some things. A lot of things actually…”

Raymond’s eyes fell once more on Kevin, on the thinly veiled panic, mixed with something a little harder to read, written all over his face. Very softly, he implored his husband, “Kevin, will you please explain to me what is going on?”

Before he had a chance to answer, Amy felt Jake tap her arm softly. She turned, and he pointed to Charlotte and then reached out a hand. Oh. Charlotte probably didn’t need to be here for this part, while they figured everything out. Jake scooped the child into his arms and then, clearly feeling a bit awkward, called across the room, “Sorry to interrupt but…Igs, why don’t you come with me and Charlie? Let’s go watch tv.”

Iggy shook her head vehemently, now a little tearful in her confusion and therefore not in the least bit inclined to leave Kevin’s side. Her grip on him visibly tightened. “No, I wanna stay with Doc.”

This fully broke the trance Kevin was in, and he raised a finger towards Raymond— _Just one moment, please_ —before leaning over and holding Iggy in front of him by her little shoulders. “It’s okay, Bug, the adults just need to have a conversation.”

“But I…”

“Hey,” Kevin cut her off with a stern look. “None of that. And none of this.” He took off her hat and handed it to her, before taking off his own. “We do not wear hats inside.” She cast another frightened glance toward Raymond.

Kevin smoothed her hair down where the hat had messed it up and gave her a watery smile. “Plus, I need you to do something for me. Can you do something for me?”

Iggy looked back at Kevin and nodded, enticed by the prospect of being involved somehow.

“I need you to look around the house and see if you can find a little dog for me. If you find him, his name is ‘Cheddar,’ okay? Can you do that?”

A serious look settled on Iggy’s face, and she stood up straighter. “I can do that. I’m good at looking for things.”

Kevin chuckled as he pushed Iggy toward where Jake stood, hand outstretched. Iggy took it, and as they left the room, Amy heard Charlotte’s loud whisper: “ _Does this mean we’re getting a dog?!_ ”

With the others gone, a stiff silence briefly fell over the kitchen. Amy took a deep breath, then asked, “Kev, do you want my help? I can stay or I can leave. Up to you.”

Kevin thought for a moment before clearly making up his mind. He strode across the kitchen and grasped Raymond’s hand, gasping as he did as if he were surprised by his husband’s solidity. He threw Amy a half-confident smile. “No thank you. I think I can do this. I think it is _best_ if I do this.”

It was all Amy could do not to cross the room herself and wrap Raymond in a big hug. But the time for that would come, later; for now she simply turned and took her leave.

* * *

About an hour later, Jake and Amy sat once more on the couch in the living room, the whole house abuzz with nervous energy in the wake of the sudden and mysterious return of their loved ones.

After leaving Kevin with Holt, Jake and Amy had had a brief phone conversation with Charles and Gina, both of whom were unusually, but understandably, subdued as they tried to process the gravity of what had happened.

“Five years? How is that possible, Jakey, I just saw you?”

“I know, bud,” Jake sighed, shifting the phone closer to Amy so she could hear better. “But I didn’t just see you. It’s been… a while.”

“Wait!” Gina cut in, putting two and two together. “So then _Iggy_ is…”

“Six, yeah. And Niko is eleven now.” There was the sound of a _woosh_ of air, a heavy and incredulous exhale, from the other end of the line, though it wasn’t clear who it came from. Jake was quick to add, “But they’re both totally safe and healthy and happy and…”

Charles sounded close to tears. “ _Eleven?!_ Oh my god, oh my _god_ , I can’t believe it. And now Iggy is…is his age?”

The line went silent for a moment.

Hoping to diffuse the tension, Amy blurted out, “But! Jake and I have a daughter now. And we named her after you, after both of you.”

“Her name’s Charlotte Regina Peralta-Santiago, and she’s totally perfect. You guys will love her,” Jake added.

“Kind of a mouthful, don’t you think?” came Gina’s reply, but Jake could tell she was touched. And now Charles was definitely crying, “I’m so honored you two. Wow.”

The call had ended with plans to all meet at the house ASAP, but they all knew it would be a little while. Rosa had been at the precinct that morning anyway, and would return with the others once they fetched Genevieve. Terry had left Ava behind and gone off with Jocelyn to collect Sharon, the twins, and Jocelyn’s brother, who had lived somewhere near the Jeffords residence. He had thought of bringing Ava, but was scared that it would be too shocking for Sharon and the twins to be immediately faced with a nine-year-old when they expected a four-year-old.

Jake glanced over the back of the couch to where the four children were playing on the floor of the study with Cheddar. Nikolaj stuck close by Charlotte’s side, probably less for her comfort than for his. He was going through the motions of playing with the others, but Jake could tell that he was really in his own world right now.

Jake could hardly blame the kid. Jake and Amy had made a fumbling stab at explaining to him what was happening—not that he hadn’t already begun to put it together once he saw the dog and learned who was currently in their kitchen. He had looked equal parts confused, worried, and hopeful, though Jake could tell that he was trying to stop himself from getting too excited.

“So… my mama and papa… from before… they’re coming back?”

“That’s right.” Amy replied, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“But… you said they were dead. Dead people don’t…”

“Right,” Amy cut in. “Not normally. But remember how we’ve talked about how the…um… what happened… isn’t how people normally die?” He nodded slowly. “I guess this is part of it. Part of it not being normal.”

Nikolaj stared at his toes for a beat, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “Will they remember me?”

Jake covered one of Nikolaj’s hands with his own. “Of course, Niko. They love you so much, they can’t wait to see you.” He hesitated, then added, “Though I think for them it will be surprising how big you’ve gotten.”

All in all, the conversation had gone okay, they thought. It was a nearly impossible situation. (Kevin would soon have to have a similarly impossible conversation with Iggy.) The longer they waited for the others arrived, the more Jake’s heart felt like it was sinking, which was not what he’d expected to be feeling.

He must have made a face or a small noise or something, because Amy put a hand on his shoulder and softly asked, “What’s wrong, babe?”

Now Jake did allow himself an audible sigh. “I don’t know. I should be excited—and I think I am—but _this_ ,” he made a sweeping gesture with his hands, “this feels like so much. Too much even.”

Amy nodded. “Yeah, I think I get what you mean. It’s amazing really but… the logistics of everything and how we’re supposed to adjust again and keep the kids safe and happy and sane, it just…it’s going to be a challenge.”

Jake knew that they were thinking about the same things.The impact of the change on the kids was going to be massive. Nikolaj had now been with Jake and Amy for longer than he had been with Charles and Genevieve. The boy had never forgotten or stopped missing his mama and papa, but Jake didn’t know how they could make sure that Nikolaj didn’t feel like he was losing Jake and Amy in gaining them back. It was going to be complicated. And then there was a similar situation with Iggy, who unlike Nikolaj really had no memories of Gina besides the stories she had been told. Her own mother was now a stranger to her, and there was no doubt in Jake’s mind that Iggy would want to stay glued to Kevin’s side (and Kevin would not want to abandon her simply because Holt was back, nor should he). Gina would have to win her trust and affection, and as a parent Jake did not envy the position this whole situation had put his best friend in.

And then Ava…who was now several years older than her older sisters. _Weird, just so very weird._

Obviously in all three cases, the highest priority was going to be making sure that the kids remained happy, or at least understood that, whatever might be changing around them, the one thing remaining steady was how much they were all loved. They had made the adjustment once before; surely they could manage it again. But until it all got figured out, until they all found their new, new normal… it was going to be a bit painful and weird.

As Jake and Amy sat there, briefly caught up in their own thoughts, Jake’s biggest concern clambered up on the couch and into the small space between them. Mirroring her parents, Charlotte’s young face held a worried expression.

Amy caught it immediately. “Everything ok, Charlie?”

Charlotte started gnawing at the nail of one of her fingers, before Jake reached over and pulled her hand out of her mouth. Finally, she replied, “I don’t think I’ve practiced enough.”

Jake didn’t understand. “Practiced what?”

“Their names. What if I get them wrong?” She added, quieter, “What if they don’t like me?”

Amy’s eyes went wide as she started to protest, “Oh, no, Charlie, they’re going to love you so much.”

It wasn’t just the names though. Jake could tell that she was worried that her little world was falling out from under her, that everything was going to change—which was exactly his own fear for her.

Amy kept talking, looking just as much at Jake as at Charlie. “Think about it this way. You have all your friends and family here already, and they’re not going anywhere. It’s just that there are going to be more now. More people to tell you stories, more little girls to build forts with you. You’ll finally get to give Grandma and Nona and Papa a hug. It will be different. But it will be good.”

Jake beamed at his wife and daughter. “You’ll love them too, Charlie. You’ll see.”

Short attention span exhausted, Charlotte immediately made a hard pivot to talking about a story Kevin had told her about ghosts and rivers and… Jake lost track pretty quickly. But he was content to just sit there, Amy nearby, the warmth of his daughter pressed against his side, as they all sat and waited for the beginning of the next era of their lives together.


End file.
